Sixsmith's sight
by TilTate
Summary: Arielle Sixsmith had been lost when taken in by the Stark Family, as handmaiden to her Lady Catelyn. This follows her journey 7 years on, now a young woman of 18, and the events that surround the great race to the Iron Throne. Will she spectate only? Or will she have a hand to play in the events of the great game? Jon/OC, SLIGHT AU, NO FLAMES
1. Prologue

Chapter 1- Doe eyed girl.

The burning hot coals tumbled over her shoulder before the doe-eyed little girl could even blink. She cried out in pain, frantically beating at her clothing to try and supress the growing flame, her shrieks alerting her father from the other side of the forge. "Arielle!" the aged smith cried, running over to his daughter with a look of panic flashing across his features, shortly after one of anger appeared. "Why do you always have to be so feckin' clumsy!" He yanked the bucket of water from beside the forge and emptied it over the small frame of the girl, soaking her to the bone and dousing the fire eating away at his daughter's rags. "I'm sorry father, I'm sorry! I was just bringing you your lunch from Ursa but I tripped and-" a sob interrupted Arielle's tale of woe. Her father swiped his black hands over his daughter's cheeks. "I love you to pieces girl but you're a mess! When are you ever going to learn to be a lady? You're never going to be married at this rate! Come here child, let's get you to Winterfell to find a healer." Iain Sixsmith commanded his daughter. "I'm never going to get married. I want to stay here and be a smith like you!" Arielle indignantly proclaimed. Her father smiled slightly in exasperation and wiped a soot covered hand down his face. "March little lady. To the stables. It's a day's ride to Winterfell hold and I don't want to be caught in the dark!" Arielle winced as her shoulder cried out in pain while she nodded in defeat. Arielle loved her father, and Iain loved his daughter. His only wish for her was that she grew up properly, as a lady should do. Have a good upbringing. He did not want his daughter to become some common whore.

At only 11 years old, little Arielle stood much too short for his liking, barely reaching his ribcage. Aye, she was fair of face but too scrawny to pass for a lady. Iain had noted that his daughter was developing more and more freckles the more time she spent in the sun with that farmer's daughter next door. "Sword fighting" she called it as the pair whacked one another with branches. Her once fair skin was dotted with the marks, as far as one could see beneath the dirt mottling her features. She needed to get cleaned up before visiting the home of the Starks to find a healer to treat her burn. He did not want his daughter making a bad impression should they run into anyone of note, something not entirely impossible while in the home of a Lord. He pondered this while gathering the breads and food required for the journey, closing up his forge and home for the day. His daughter's clumsiness was beginning to cost him his business and he needed a solution for this. Fast. Arielle was his pride and joy next to his son Albert, but as a member of the Night's watch, he didn't even know if his son was alive or dead.

"I'm ready father." A small voice cooed from across the hall breaking him from his reverie. He turned to find his daughter dressed with a tear-stained face and ready for the journey to the healer. "Have you had any milk of the poppy for the pain yet?" Arielle shook her head, a negative. He sighed. "Here, have some before you go and I'll restock and buy some more at the healers." He searched his knapsack for the milky liquid, and retrieved some for the young girl, striding over to her and tipping it gently between the child's lips. Arielle grimaced after swallowing at the taste of the foul liquid, but she noticed the pain in her shoulder subside slightly, so decided not to complain. "Come on Elle, to the stables before sepsis sets in." he gestured out of the door allowing the child to set off first before locking up behind her. He had brought camping equipment as a precaution against busy roads.

A few hours later, it was looking as though he would need to use it. They had been riding for half a day and the sun was beginning to set, light becoming scarce. There was at least another quarter of a day's ride to Winterfell hold and they wouldn't make it before it went dark. It wasn't safe to camp so close to the roads overnight but Arielle was beginning to tire upon the horse's back, the pain in her shoulder overwhelming her ability to stay awake. He dismounted the nag's back, hauling his daughter down after him with hands strategically placed at her waist rather than under her arms, so as not to cause pain to her already hurt shoulder. He would share a sleeping bag with his daughter, buried underneath furs, but it was important that the pair didn't freeze to death first. He realized his dire need for wood to make a fire all too late in the day, and muttered a curse under his breath.

Arielle would have to be left alone for a short while, whilst he left in search for some suitably dry wood; an impossibility the night after rainfall. He shook his daughter gently, stroking her hair. She stirred as her eyes fluttered open drowsily. "Father? Are we here?" He shook his head grimly. "No my girl, but I need you to be big and brave for me while I go and search for some wood. Can you do that?" He implored of his daughter. He was concerned for her safety. Winterfell was not all that far away, and he was sure his daughter would be safe, but it was always dangerous in Westeros, wherever one went. He unsheathed his dagger and pressed it into Arielle's hand. "Do not use it unless you are attacked or in danger my love. Do you promise?" He stared his daughter in the eyes, begging her wordlessly to understand. She nodded hesitantly. "Y-yes father. Will you be long?" Iain shook his head. "No my dear, a matter of minutes, a half hour at most." Arielle nodded. She'd played at swords before. She could do this and make her father proud. "Don't move, you don't want to aggravate your shoulder my dear." He kissed the top of her head then strode away between the trees.

Arielle was left alone as she watched her father retreat, the forest suddenly seeming a lot bigger and a lot scarier than what she was used to. To occupy herself, she took to singing the few nursery rhymes she knew, a form of comfort. Her father had told her that before her mother had died she had sung them to her brother every night so that he could sleep. Her father had made a point to teach them to her, telling her to sing them in times of worry or fear to provide comfort to herself. She picked at her skirts with her good arm as she sung, her shoulder causing tears to well in her eyes and her voice to become thick and warbled with crying. It stung dearly, so she decided to take a peek at it. She placed the dagger on the floor beside her as she turned her gaze to her right shoulder. The skin was mottled and burnt a lot further down than she realised as she pulled the material away from her shoulder. She'd really done it this time. She took a deep breath, willing herself to be okay. She had to be brave for her father. She said she would, so she must. She continued singing quietly to herself in the forest, the sound of her voice echoing between the trees.

A snapping twig some time later as the sun was finished setting and night had appeared caught her attention. Her father was not back yet, and whilst she was beginning to worry, she had promised to be brave. "Father?" she called out, to no response. "Father is that you?" She was nervous now. Arielle took the dagger in hand and rose to her feet, turning to face where she heard the twig snap. Her face contorted in fear. She would be angry if her father was playing a joke. "Father I swear if that's you I'll-" she screamed as a large man jumped from behind a nearby tree. "I'm not your daddy girl. What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this? Hmm? All by yourself?" the man licked his lips. He was disgusting. Arielle backed away in fear gripping the dagger tightly by the hilt. The man had large patches of dirt across his face, tattered robes draping his body. He had a large mole that Arielle could see the hairs growing from. He was a lot larger than her. "No. I'm with my father, stay away from me he'll be back any minute." Arielle spoke up, trying to be strong but her voice betrayed her. It trembled terribly. "I guess I should stay and keep you company ey? Keep you warm 'til daddy gets back." The man grinned viciously. Arielle backed up even further. "No. Stay away from me. Father? Father!" She cried behind her, craning her neck around but trying to keep one eye on the stranger at the same time.

Her father had warned her about men like this, and how they only wanted one thing. Disgusting men, who yearned to be inside women. They raped and killed them. Arielle knew to keep away and be wary of any strangers because of this. "Ain't no-one round here darling. No one to hear you scream!" The man lunged at Arielle and she froze, the sheer weight of him toppling her over onto her back, her shoulder screaming in pain. The main remained on top of her. Why wasn't he moving? She struggled beneath him, half sobbing, half screaming. "HELP!" she screeched over and over. Why wasn't anyone coming? She tried to push the larger man off her but he was too heavy, he must have been toying with her, torturing her before raping her by trapping her underneath him. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, writhing beneath the old pervert while her shoulder slowly killed her.

She suddenly heard the sounds of hooves pounding the earth around her, and men's voices filled the air. Oh no, there were more of them. She kicked and yelled at the top of her lungs "HELP ME!" over and over, until suddenly the weight was gone off her. She scrambled back, her feet and hands kicking into the muddy earth beneath her. Sheer panic across her features like a startled dear, tears cascading down her cheeks. "Don't touch me! No!" She cried as she flung her arms up over her face, only to have them wrenched down, another man's face filling her vision. "Shhhh, you're safe now child." A calm voice crowed. It took her a while to realize that the man's lips were moving and the voice belonged to him. She stared into his eyes. "Are you going to hurt me?" She spoke gently. The man smiled sadly. "No my dear. Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where's your family." Arielle sniffled gently, wiping her eyes with her good arm. "That man. He came out of nowhere, he tried to rape me. My father. He's in the woods somewhere gathering wood. He left a while ago. I don't know where he is. I was waiting for him. Please don't let him come near me. Get that man away from me. He trapped me." Arielle trembled as she recounted what happened, the man cradling her arms gently, kneeling before her. He had kind eyes, and long ashy hair, like her own. The man was imposing with a rough voice and rough face to match. She noted that he held her gently but with assurance. He seemed kind. "He's dead my dear, your dagger… it pierced his belly. Cut him through... He… won't trouble you any longer. I haven't seen your father. My hunting party and I were returning to Winterfell. Is that where you were going? What's your name girl?" The man seemed calm, but the news he delivered spooked Arielle to the core.

Dead. The man was dead. She had killed someone. She could be hung for this. She was a killer at only 11 years old. A new wave of sobbing overcame her. "A-Arielle. Sixsmith. Arielle Sixsmith." She replied gently. "W-who are you?" she asked between sobs, her teary little eyes striking the man's heart and causing him to feel great pity for the young, tiny girl. She couldn't have been much older than his own sons. "I'm Lord Eddard Stark my girl, let's get you to safety hmm?" And with that last sentence Arielle's world spun before her. She had killed a man, almost been raped, lost her father, burnt her shoulder and been rescued by none other than Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. She was sure to be hanged for this. Killing was a crime. Combined with the immense pain and growing infection in her shoulder, it all became too much for the young girl, and she slumped in the arms of the Lord of Winterfell. Out Cold.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2

"My Lady Stark, Lady Sansa has asked for your presence in her room, and sent me to enquire of the whereabouts of Young Lady Arya." Arielle's voice rolled off her tongue like Honey. Since arriving at the Stark's 7 years ago she had become a young woman. A lot has changed in that time. She never saw her father again, although Lord Stark did send search parties out for him. She knew he was probably dead. Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard had been kind enough to take her on as their ward, provided she acted as handmaiden to Lady Stark and her daughters. She had grown with them, and come to be loved as a part of the family. Well, all except for that rotten Theon Greyjoy, who seemed to despise her for some reason. "Elle, how many times do I have to tell you before I start smacking sense into that pretty little head of yours to call me Cat? For the last time you're part of the family." Lady Catelyn groaned exasperated with the propriety of the beautiful young girl. "I may be a part of the family _my Lady_ , but I'm still your handmaiden and intend to act as such." Arielle replied with a cheeky smile. She loved Cat, and the teasing she dished out was often returned by the older woman. She had a great deal of respect and love for the Starks, Catelyn especially. Catelyn sighed, she gestured to the courtyard below where the family were standing, watching young Bran learn to shoot. "Arya's never far away from the boys. She's down there. It's time she were ready and in a dress anyway. If you could be a dear…" Arielle curtseyed and winked at Lady Stark, causing Lord Eddard standing next to her to chuckle and shake his head.

She turned and with a flourish of her skirts brushed down the stairs and into the muddy courtyard to stand with the rest of her family, quietly observing young Bran. He had grown so fast, and she had watched him grow. Lady Stark had barely given birth to Him when she had arrived. He was a child of 3 and she had seen his transformation into a young man of 10. He was growing so fast. She moved herself to stand between Jon and Robb, and far away from Theon tapping both men on the shoulder, causing them to turn and smile brightly at her. She had always hated Theon, he was a spiteful little boy who had turned into a Spiteful little man. The Starks had kept him as Robbs ward, looked after him, cared for him, loved him, clothed him, sheltered him and yet he was still and ungrateful little bastard. Anywhere in the keep you could go and hear him moaning on and on about how awful his life was as a prisoner of the Starks. When Arielle came along, it would appear that Theon grew jealous. He was always horrid to her, but recently it had become spiteful and aggressive rather than simple childhood fun and games like pulling her hair. Recently it was more… sinister. Sly insults and him going out of his way to make her suffer.

She returned the smile the boys had given equally as bright while casting a glare in Theon Greyjoy's direction, then craned her neck to whisper into Robb's ear; a challenge in itself. Despite her age, she had barely grown much to her annoyance and stood a mere five-foot four off the ground. "Any idea where Arya is? Your mother has asked me to get her ready, lord bloody help me." Robb chuckled and leaned down to whisper out of the side of his mouth to the girl "She's hiding… She knows you're looking for her. If you want to find her, it'll cost you." Robb chuckled. He had come to love the girl dearly like one of his own sisters, and had taken her under his wing. The two had become the best of friends, Arielle acting as both the angel and devil on his shoulder.

Arielle elbowed Robb, and he flinched in mock pain, whimpering. She did it again for good measure and tried her luck with Jon. She had always liked Jon Snow, he was her dear friend, and in both of their feelings of not belonging to the family, the two had formed a bond. "Arya?" She simply whispered in his ear hopefully, her hand resting on his shoulder to maintain balance, eyes wide with hope. The doe-eyed look always worked on Jon. At 18, Arielle was no fool. With long Chestnut hair and a clear complexion, she knew she was luckier than most girls her age. She knew she only had to bat her eyelashes and shed a small tear and she was in for what she wanted with the ever noble white knight Jon Snow... He begrudgingly knew it too. To an extent, it worked on Lord Eddard too. He smirked and turned towards her, whispering in her ear, his lips grazing her ear, "She's about 3 feet behind you, behind a pillar. Make no sudden movements, do it sneakily." He smirked down at her. She grinned widely at Snow and mouthed 'Thank you' up at him dropping her hand to his and giving it a gentle squeeze. He grinned cheekily back which made her heart skip a beat slightly. Jon Snow was good looking… she sometimes forgot that. She knew if she ever needed to cause trouble, despite his good nature, she could count on him to help. "Bran, bow arm loose, bowstring tight." She called to the young lordling. His glossy eyes turned to look at her, wide and confused, his arms loosening off the bowstring for a moment. "She's right Bran," echoed Robb, "Your bow arm is too tight." Her friend called to his brother.

The little lord nodded, his upper lip set in determination, a furrowed brow of concentration settling upon his features. He took a deep breath, chest heaving and aimed his bow, glaring down the arrow shaft. The arrow was let loose. It flew quickly, sailing over the target and over the wall behind it, causing the older Starks to laugh. Arielle simply smiled encouragingly at Bran, mouthing a quick 'Try next time' to the young boy. "I don't recall any of you being a master marksman aged 7!" Boomed a heavy voice from above the group, one belonging to Eddard Stark, causing all the Starklings to turn in fear to heed their fathers voice. "Try again Bran," continued Lord Eddard in a much softer voice, a smile in his kind eyes not quite reaching his mouth. Arielle liked Lord Eddard, he had rescued her. He had been the one to save her that day in the forest, taking her in and feeding her. He had seen that the best healer in Winterfell treated her wound too. That however did not stop it scarring, and the infection that plagued her raging for days. She was left with the mottled skin as a permanent reminder of her stupidity that day. She had vowed never to be so clumsy ever again, and had taken her training to be a lady very seriously from Lady Catelyn.

Arya Stark jumped out from behind a post, and shot an arrow dead centre of the target, surprising all of her brothers and breaking the Handmaiden from her thoughts. A smirk played across the young girl's features as she triumphed over her younger brother. Arielle had to act fast in order to catch the slippery little wolf. She snuck behind Jon, fading into the background as the children bickered, and snuck up behind the fair headed child quietly, balancing on the balls of her feet. With the stealth of a cat, Arielle had pinched Arya by the ear and gripped her tightly on the arm. "Bath time missy! Now!" Arielle shouted in triumph, dragging the young girl towards the house, ignoring her struggles and cries for help for her brothers. "Sorry Arya, you're on your own!" Cried Robb. "Serves you right!" Shouted Bran, as the poor young girl was dragged through the heavy door which closed behind her with a slam.

Arielle battled against the youngling. For someone so small she was so very heavy and strong. "Let me go you witch!" Screamed Arya. "I don't need a bath! I'm clean!" Arielle laughed in response. "Don't be stupid Arya, you're flipping filthy and you need a bath! I'm only following orders. If you make it easy for me, I'll make it worth your while!" Arielle sung. Arya's struggling subsided somewhat, so Arielle let go of the girl's ear, only holding her by the arm. Arya looked at her from the side of her eyes, brow raised in suspicion. The two had stopped walking now and were facing off in the middle of the corridor. Arielle was anxious to follow Lady Stark's orders and Arya was NOT making it easy. She pitied the girl though, because Arielle knew that someday she would be expected to be the perfect daughter like Sansa. Arielle loved Arya because her spirit was not like that. She was a wild girl, who hated propriety and anything of the sort. Arielle admired her hardiness. "… How?" asked Arya with a sly glance at her handmaiden. She would do anything to get out of a bath, but she loved the older girl to pieces, and she always kept her promises. "Oh gosh I don't know Arya?! I'll owe you okay? A favour! Now please, in the name of the 7, will you come and take a bath?" Arielle got down on both knees in front of the pale little girl, hands gripping her shoulders tightly. Arielle was stressed and not in the mood for playing games with the sneaky child. "Fine." She relented. Arielle nearly cried with relief. "But only if you do my hair in those tight little braids afterwards."

"Done." Agreed Arielle, and the two headed off to Arya's chambers. Walking into the cosy room, she noticed a fire was already going. 'Good' She thought, 'That means the water will take less time to boil'. Before heading over to the pot, she locked the door behind her and kept the key for good measure, to prevent the little demon from escaping. She smiled to herself as she heard Arya humming from across the room. She was a good child really. Her mind wandered to absent places as she filled the heavy pot and waited for the water to boil, picking up the odd trinket lying around in Arya's room and making the place tidy for the child. It wouldn't stay that way for long however. Once the water was boiled, she poured it into the large tub for the girl. It was already half full with lukewarm water as was requested by Lady Stark for quick washing purposes, and the Large pot of water simply topped it up while adding a comforting heat to the bath. She lit the hearth beside the bath designed to keep it warm. "Arya, it's ready." Arielle called the smaller girl from round the corner. "Coming!" Shouted Arya back.

As was custom with Arya, Arielle started to turn to leave, as the smaller Stark girl preferred bathing alone as opposed to Sansa, who preferred company and a little help. "Wait…" Spoke Arya, as Arielle was stepping out of the room. "Will you stay this time?" 'This is odd… is she alright?' thought Arielle, as she nodded and helped the girl undress. Arya climbed into the water and submerged herself, totally underwater before emerging again and resting her back against the tub. Arya was shy with her body, which Arielle respected and completely understood, so she tried to maintain the child's modesty by turning away. She was uncertain in this situation, as she had not bathed Arya in a long time but merely supervised should she required aid… The last time Arielle bathed Arya was… She couldn't even remember? Now, she was a young lady of 9, so Arielle was left confused.

"Will… will you wash my hair Elle? Will you make it look nice and shiny like yours?" Arielle smiled kindly at the girl whose nerves were clearly getting the better of her. "Of course I will, little dove." Arielle kept her eyes away from Arya's modesty, focusing solely on the floor as she massaged the scented paste into the young girl's hair. "The trick I always use, to get my hair how I want it, is that I always do the roots first, then run my fingers through it, almost like using a brush, to make sure the paste gets all over my hair." Arielle explained to the younger girl, rubbing her scalp in repetitive motions attempting to soothe her worries, whatever they may be. Arielle loved Arya as though she were her own sister, so it concerned her that she was troubled. A frown creased her own brow, that went unseen by the little girl. "Thank you Elle." Arya replied timidly, a hint of sadness in her voice. It broke Arielle's rhythm, but she continued on regardless, soon regaining it. "What's the matter my little dove?" She asked the young girl quietly. "You seem out of sorts ever since we came in, I hope I haven't upset you my dear?" Arielle was careful to approach the subject carefully. Arya was known for shutting off until it became too late, and lashing out later on. The girl was clever but isolated herself a lot of the time. She always tried to be strong.

The young girl turned to face Arielle whilst in the bath, using her arms to prop herself up, resting her chin on the side of the bath, keeping the rest of her body hidden behind the bath's walls. "I think mother is ashamed of me because I'm not like Sansa." Arya mumbled quietly, eyes downcast. Arielle's heart ached for the younger girl and she felt it pinch at her words. Her eyes seemed so sad and suddenly the boisterous tomboy seemed so small. She saw something of herself in the little lady that reminded her of when she was small. She knew how Arya felt, and she yearned to help her understand that she was perfect the way she was.

"Lady Arya Stark you listen to me right now," Arielle started in a commanding tone, which shocked Arya immensely, enough for her gaze to flick up to Arielle's face. "You are perfect just the way you are. You don't need to be like Sansa to earn your mother's love and respect! Your mother loves you and adores you, so does your father, so do your siblings and so do I. Being a 'proper lady' is not all it's cracked up to be. I was like you once… young, a little bit wild, and a little bit cheeky," Arielle tweaked the young girls nose at this, "But it gives you character. You're not like Sansa no, but you're strong, brave, and anything your brothers can do you can do twice as well! Arya Stark you are nothing like your sister. You are your own person, and your mother- and I- could not be more proud." Arya beamed up at the older girl, making Arielle kiss her on the top of the head. "Now come on, let's put Sansa's hair to shame!" Arielle grinned, causing Arya to cheer and splash the older girl. This started a splash war that left the whole room drenched, much to Arielle's disdain. No matter, it was worth it to see Arya smile.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 3

"Arielle! Come quickly! Come on!" Shouted Arya, distracting Arielle from reading upon the balcony of the keep and sighed in mourning of her relaxing afternoon. "They're back from the execution come on!" Eager to meet everyone back from the trip, she raced down the stairs to the younger child, catching her hand and running to the front gate of Winterfell, her skirts and cloak flying out into the wind behind her, where she was greeted by the Males who had left earlier. She curtsied to Lord Stark, as was customary holding her skirts and bending her knee. Her cloak had become slightly disturbed and was sitting askew on her shoulders from running. "I trust the… issue… was resolved without any hiccups my lord? Everyone is safe?" She addressed Lord Eddard slightly out of breath, referring to the Night's Watchman who had abandoned his post- a weak and despicable man. The Night's Watch were brave and loyal men, Arielle's own brother was one of them. A deserter was basically scum and punished with death. "All is resolved now Arielle no need to worry. I trust my wife and daughters are well?" Arielle nodded vigorously at this. "Oh yes my lord, Lady Catelyn is currently with Maester Luwin, Sansa is in her classes with her Septa and Arya is wrapped around my ankles currently." She grinned as she spoke and, true to her word, Arya was curled round the older girl's leg. Arya was sitting on the floor, cradling Arielle's ankles watching the men return with wide, eager eyes, only to become distracted and disgruntled when picked up by her father. "Of course she is. She's never far from your side Arielle." Edd Stark chuckled at Arya who grinned sheepishly. It was then that Arielle heard a tiny whine and mewl that drew her attention.

In front of her was none other than the Stark boys and Jon holding direwolf pups, one in each hand. Theon stood off to the side looking grim. Arielle gasped in shock. Direwolves hadn't been seen this far south in years, never mind this far from the wall. Robb grinned at her and explained "One for each of the Stark children," only to be interrupted by Theon, "And one for the Stark bastard too!" he guffawed. Everyone in company glared at him, making him shrink like the little rat he was. Hell, even the blacksmith glared at him from across the courtyard.

Arielle ran over to Jon with a grin when she saw him hanging back from the group. She curtsied to him as a joke; he hated it when she did that, so she continued doing it to tease him much to the raven-haired boy's chagrin. In his arms he held a gorgeous white direwolf pup that was writhing and wriggling in his grip- clearly the runt of the litter. Jon smiled when he saw her approach, and held the pup out to her, much to the pup's disdain as he let out a small yelp, his ears pricking up with alarm and legs kicking in the air. "Want to hold him?" He offered. Arielle's eyebrows hit her hairline, eyes wide open. "Y-yes. Definitely!" She stammered, reaching out and taking the pup cautiously, cradling it gently and stroking the top of its head. The tiny pup raised its inquisitive head and stared at her with his bright red eyes, as though examining her, only to mentally reach some form of conclusion about her and nestle closer to her chest, eyes drooping shut. She could hear the little huffs of breath coming from the pup as she stroked it. She did not notice Jon staring at her as she examined the direwolf pup.

"He's beautiful. What have you called him? I assume he's yours?" Arielle asked excitedly. She loved animals, all of them, but wolves had always been her favourite, apt considering she lived in house Stark whose vigil was a wolf running on a white field. He coughed to clear his throat when the girl looked back up at him with bright eyes, leaving Arielle slightly confused. Jon was acting odd. "Yes, he's mine. And Uh, no. I've not named him yet." He bit out gruffly.

"Well a beautiful pup like this one can't go without a name! Have you got any ideas?" Arielle asked him. She would have to quiz him about it later. "I was thinking Ghost. He's all white, blends in, awful quiet, So yeah. Ghost." Jon explained, gesturing to the pup and tickling his head, making him stir in Arielle's arms, only to settle again. "Ghost it is!" Arielle proclaimed happily, nodding to Jon as a signal for him to walk with her.

"How was the trip?" she asked quietly, the pair walking side by side, shoulders brushing. "Are you okay?" Arielle asked once again, pushing for information. Jon nodded stoically and looked up. "It was difficult. A deserter goes against everything I believe in but I felt awful watching him die. It seemed unfair." Arielle nodded pensively. She knew of Jon's plans to join the Night's Watch but couldn't bear the thought of him going alone, ending up like her brother never to be seen again. He had a good heart, and Arielle wasn't sure if he was cut out to be a member of the Night's Watch. He was too kind. "Of course. It only seems fair for a man to die if he has truly done something heinous," Arielle spoke quietly, the pair wandering side by side through the courtyard. Jon's attention seemed far away. "Like murdering innocents… Rapists… Thieves. A man who ran for his life when his comrades were killed doesn't seem like a fair execution, but those are the rules Jon." She implored him, looking up at the man's jawline. Being short was a curse in Winterfell. All the Stark boys were so tall. Even Bran and Rickon were large for their age. She scowled internally at her curse of shortness.

Jon turned to face her, a silent acceptance gracing his features. He nodded stiffly and looked down at her, "How was Arya this morning? Manageable or no? Sorry I didn't get the chance to say goodbye, we left shortly after you kidnapped my sis- Her for a bath." Jon deftly dodged the topic of the Night's Watch and his heritage so Arielle sighed. She wished he would open up to her. She was his best friend for crying out loud. "She was alright. A little glum for bathing obviously, but good." Arielle decided not to tell Jon about Arya's troubles. He had enough on his mind already, and she felt the moment between her and Arya to be intimate and secret. Not something Arya would like as common knowledge. The pup wriggled in her arms as though sensing her discomfort with keeping secrets, desperate to be let go. Jon nodded as a 'go ahead' so she released Ghost and let him run around the courtyard with the other pups. "And how are you?" Jon asked her quietly, halting the pair outside the doors to the keep, his eyes resting on Arielle's face.

"Me?" Arielle questioned. That was a good question on Jon's behalf. How was she feeling? Arielle took a minute to think, bringing her hands together and picking at the loose skin around her fingernails. She took her time replying, but when she did Arielle sounded shaky. She hadn't stopped to consider herself in a long time. Peace was something hard to come by in Winterfell, especially as Arya and Sansa Stark's handmaiden. "I'm… I'm good. I feel as though I'm waiting for something though. Like there's something on the horizon. Something I'm not seeing. It's making me nervous like there's a fog hanging over Winterfell." Jon nodded pensively. He appeared to understand her. "Winter is coming Arielle. I understand how you feel." He had a brooding expression on his face that Arielle didn't like. He was troubled. She could tell by the slight curl of his upper lip and furrowed brow. This was his upset face… not that it wasn't the most common one of course. The boy seemed permanently troubled.

"Jon? What is it? You have that face on again." Arielle reached a hand out to Jon's arm and held it gently, eyebrows creasing upwards in a look of concern. Something had happened. Jon's eyes seemed to snap back into focus as he locked gazes with Arielle. He had returned to earth once more. As Arielle awaited Jon's answer, he brought his hand closest to the keep entrance to rest on Arielle's shoulder, his hand gently cupping her neck and head. It was an intimate gesture, but the pair were close. Arielle dropped the arm holding Jon's arm and used her other hand to hold his wrist, locking his arm in place on her jaw. His rough, calloused hands from years of swordsmanship felt warm on her neck and she couldn't help but lean into the touch slightly. It felt nice to be held "I'm fine Arielle. You're Lady Catelyn's handmaiden. Not my nurse. You don't have to worry about me." Jon spoke softly as he implored her that he was fine.

Of course he was 'fine', thought Arielle. 'He's a man.' The pair stared silently at each other, locked in an intimate staring battle, Jon still cradling Arielle's face before being interrupted by a loud 'thunk' of an arrow, nestled in a barrel behind them, and very close to the pair's faces. They jumped apart with a start and searched for the source of the potentially deadly disturbance. "If you two are quite finished whispering sweet nothing's to each other," Shouted Robb Stark from across the courtyard, "Jon, we have work to do!" Arielle glared at Robb, as did Jon from beside her. "Go." Whispered Arielle, "Kill him for me if you must." She smirked, squeezing his arm once.

"Oh, I intend to." Jon replied, grimacing in the direction of Robb. He knew he would get an earful for being seen with Arielle in what could possibly be misconstrued as a compromising position. Not in the negative way of course, in the pushy, brotherly banter way. His brother knew of his affections towards the Sixsmith girl, and would give him hell for this, he was sure. His hand tingled from where it had touched Arielle's fair freckled skin.

Arielle watched Robb and Jon turn round a corner into the keep's barracks, although not before Robb turned and winked at the poor girl, a grin adorning the Young Man's face. A bright red blush lit up Arielle's cheeks as she turned and stormed off, not quite sure of where it is exactly she intended to go. She spotted Sansa descending the balcony's stairs and set off in her direction. She smiled at the fair haired Stark girl and waved slightly, prompting Sansa to wave back, and quickly walk in her handmaiden's direction. "Lady Sansa," Arielle greeted with a slight curtsy. Again, all the Starks believed her curtsying and titles to be overly formal when it came to Arielle so Sansa simply scoffed and rolled her eyes at the older girl. "How are you Arielle?" She asked.

"I'm good thank you Sansa, I've just greeted the lads from the hunt." Arielle replied softly. Sansa smiled knowingly and snickered at the older girl. "I saw." She simply said, a smirk adorning her pretty features. Sansa was beautiful, obviously so. She was the prize of Winterfell, a beauty to behold, and looked just like her mother. Arielle was jealous of the young girl's looks. She wished that she could look as fair and graceful as the younger girl seemed to at all times. Arielle, despite becoming of age and a handmaiden to a family of Lords and Ladies, had maintained her clumsiness and two left feet much to her grief. Little did Arielle realise however that Sansa felt the same for the older girl. She had an almost hero worship for her handmaiden. She loved her like the older sister she never had. It was then that Arielle registered what Sansa meant in her response. She was implying the same as Robb. Goodness grief when were people going to give her a break in this family?! As she had earlier in the day with Robb, she elbowed Sansa in the ribs causing her to be elbowed right back. This left both girls giggling out loud as they walked arm in arm into the keep discussing the mundane occurrences in life such as hair, dresses and little things like Sansa's sewing classes with her Septa.

Upon passing by the great hall however, a great racket was heard inside, coming from a large crowd of people. Sansa dragged Arielle along, arms still linked into the room upon seeing that her father and brothers were in there with Maester Luwin and her father's most trusted advisors, including her mother. "What's going on?" Asked Sansa loudly, pausing in the central walkway of the grand hall. Arielle was trapped within the younger girl's grip and was unable to do anything other than stand there awkwardly, a bright blush flaring across her cheeks upon spotting the Robb, Jon and Theon. She smiled slightly at the boys, attempting to maintain propriety whilst greeting her friends. "Ah, Sansa. There you are," Started Lady Catelyn. "Come here my dear. Arielle, you too." Arielle had turned to exit but stopped in her tracks upon hearing Lady Stark request her presence. Catelyn must have seen her attempting to leave. Bollocks, she hated political business, it always put the family on edge and worried Lady Stark. She had snapped at Arielle many times during times of political strife before. 'Seven Hells' thought Arielle, 'This must be big if they're involving me though.'

"Yes, My Lady?" Asked Arielle, immediately rushing to Lady Stark's side, ignoring the smirks and snickers from the boys thrown in her direction, who were discussing something privately with their father. She would get them all back later, she was sure. "Arielle, King Robert and Queen Cersei are coming to Winterfell for a period of time. They're bringing their whole… euh… entourage." Arielle gasped, eyes wide. As far as history went, they had not had a visit this grave since Arielle had arrived in Winterfell herself. King Robert Baratheon was notorious for being the drunken king. Aye, in his history he had been a great ruler, not always entirely fair, but great all the same. Now Arielle would have looked down on him as a bum if not for the fact he was her king. He was a slovenly drunken mess who did nothing but whore and cheat on his wife. Arielle thought him deplorable. And the rumours surrounding Queen Cersei were almost horrific to think of. Arielle blanched. If Cersei were coming, that meant Ser Jaime Lannister, the King slayer was coming too. She shuddered at the thought, bringing her attention back to Lady Cat. "I need to ask something big of you. Something I will consider a great personal favour to the family. I will honour you greatly if you do this for me." Arielle nodded gravely. This seemed a grave issue, it made her nervous and twitchy. "Arielle, I need you to be Queen Cersei's handmaiden for the duration of her visit…." The rest of Lady Catelyn's speech went unheard by Arielle. 'Oh Fuck' she thought, 'I can already see my head rolling,'


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello lovely peoples! I'm so overwhelmed by the amount of people following this story I just wanted to say thank you so much! I'm now instigating a rule though, if I don't get reviews, I won't update! I'm going to Madrid for 5 weeks to work and my time is precious! I'm not going to update if I feel nobody appreciates the time I put into my work! I love you all so much but this is a sort of prerogative I guess? If you like the story, review!**

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Chapter 4

It was later that evening, after she had done her handmaiden duties to the ladies of the house that Arielle was finally able to relax and take some time to herself to mull over the events of the day. Her head was spinning and she felt dizzy with fear. She had been told the Royal family were to arrive in 7 moons, giving her a week to prepare for her task of being Queen Cersei's handmaiden and guide while here. She was terrified of the Lannister Queen, but then again everyone in the seven kingdoms was too. She wandered slowly through the corridors of the keep of Winterfell to find her way back to her room. It was a long walk from the rooms of the girls, but Arielle was grateful for it this time because it gave her the time to think that she needed. She was terrified. If Queen Cersei does not approve of her services, she could end up dead or mutilated. It wasn't uncommon to hear that Her Grace had gone through yet another handmaiden. Nobody ever heard from the poor girls again. Arielle did not want to be one of the missing-presumed dead. She quite liked her life how it was, thank you very much Queen Cersei.

Rounding a corner while lost in her thoughts, Arielle did not see Theon Greyjoy turning the corner into the same corridor, the pair seemingly set on a collision course. Theon hated Arielle. He did not understand her; she was lowborn and a peasant and yet the Starks still treated their handmaiden better than he was treated in the house. It was despicable. He was of a higher rank than her, he deserved more respect! They were both outsiders so why was she allowed the love and affection that he craved? He smiled maliciously as he saw Arielle staring at the floor, unaware as to his presence. "Well if it isn't the Stark family whore?!" He crowed loudly, breaking the younger girl out of her reverie. "Lord Theon," She simply replied softly, and stood to the side of the corridor and stared at the floor to let the Greyjoy cunt past, as was customary of the lower classes. She was in no mood to battle with Greyjoy tonight. Any other time a battle of wits would have been on the table but her current state of mind left her weary and timid. Theon seemed to have other ideas however and stopped in front of the girl standing close to her. "So go on then Ariel who-"

"Arielle." She quipped, almost without meaning to.

"Whatever. Who have you whored yourself out to tonight? Robb? I bet you'd like that wouldn't you, his tiny cock slipping into your cavernous cunt?" Arielle winced at the expletive, and shied away from Theon.

As though sensing her discomfort and wanting to push her over the edge he took as step forward as she took one back. Her fists were clenched by her side and she refused to look at him. He continued, "Or was it Lord Eddard perhaps? The Lord of Winterfell himself. Tell me, does he choke you with golden chains then let you keep them? I wonder what Lady Catelyn would say?!" Theon mock gasped and pressed his hand to his chest, grinning maliciously at the younger girl's sheer embarrassment. He enjoyed watching her squirm beneath him. He took one more step forward causing Arielle's back to slam roughly against the stone wall and her to wince in pain, still not meeting the eyes of her abuser. "Or maybe… It's the bastard. Maybe it's that bastards cock that you ride at night, moaning his name as he fills you with his seed, grinding your dripping cunt against him. Tell me, is he small? Tiny I'll bet!"

At this point Arielle was blushing furiously at Theon's language and a scowl had adorned her features. She had looked up sharply at the Greyjoy cunt upon the word 'bastard', nostrils flaring with anger. She reminded him of an angry pup at this point. He chuckled internally. 'Appropriate considering she was a bitch.' He pushed the girl even further into the wall, extending his arms and putting them either side of her head, trapping her in place. He pushed his hips against her thigh, holding her in place yet again. She could feel his hardness against her leg as he ground it into her supple skin. It was then that Arielle's fight or flight instincts kicked in. An uncomfortable burning sensation of recognition settled in Arielle's stomach and it clenched tightly. She knew men like Theon. One like Theon was the reason she was in Winterfell.

He brought his lips down to her ear, whispering softly. If it had been Jon she would not have minded so much but the slimy worm that Theon was caused her to blanch as he did it and her stomach to heave. She was going to vomit. "But... Oh wait… he's a maid. I wonder, are you a maid? They say you can tell from the taste of a woman's pussy if she's a maid. I'll have to find out." He licked the side of her face quickly and dropped to his knees, his hands grasping at her skirts. It was then that Arielle kicked him in the bollocks and ran. She didn't know where it was she was running to, but she ran fast. Her heart was racing in her chest and her lungs were heaving. She could hear him screaming expletives behind her but she didn't look back. Tears were streaming down her face as she ran and her eyes blurred. She took a left and a right at top speed and suddenly recognized where she was. She was in the tower of the Stark men. Where Theon's room was located. He would be heading back this way very soon.

She silently cursed her stupidity. Her mind screaming at her to run, Arielle ducked into the closest doorway, slamming the large wooden door behind her and pressing her back against it. Tears were streaming down her face again and her chest was heaving. Sobs were loudly escaping her mouth so she smacked a hand over it, just in time as she heard loud footfalls storming past the door. It could only have been Theon. She sunk to her knees, scrunching her eyes close. "Arielle?" a voice called. "Wh- what's wrong?" She knew that voice. It was Jon. Her eyes flew open to find him standing across the room in his night clothes. His hair was damp and he had obviously just bathed. He was a sight for sore eyes. Arielle got up off her knees and ran to Jon, flinging her arms around him and hearing a small 'oof' escape him at the impact. Her tears were flowing fresh again. Jon was concerned for his friend; he had never seen her like this… not since she arrived in Winterfell anyway. Responding aptly to Arielle's distress, her snaked one arm around her small waist, and rested his hand on her head, slowly stroking her hair.

"Hey…. Hey. Come now stop those tears." He crowed gently, holding the chestnut haired girl close to him, feeling her shake and sob against his chest. He had almost forgotten how small of a frame the girl had until he had the chance to hold it for himself. She felt nice beneath his rough hands. She felt right. He just wished it was under different circumstances. He heard her try to choke out a word between sobs, but it came out unintelligible. "Come now Elle… breath, big deep breaths." He coached her. Arielle's focus was brought to Jon's voice instead of what happened earlier. "T-Theon. He…" Arielle stammered, before simply taking a deep shuddering breath and resting her head of Jon's chest. He Scowled. If Theon had been the cause of this, he would murder him. He rested his chin atop Arielle's head and continued to stroke her back. The pair stayed like this until Arielle was dry eyed and her sobs had subsided. Jon withdrew from her. "Come sit down. Tell me what happened." He led her over to the bed and the pair sat on the bed, Arielle recounting past hour to Jon, who seemed to go through various stages of rage, upset and pity for her. His arm never left her waist and his hand never left hers. Her head never left his shoulder. Arielle blushed when recounting the part about Jon and herself, and the part about tasting her, and she could feel Jon tense around her when she spoke of it. She wondered if the thought of the two of them was as appealing to him as it was to her.

By the end of her tale Jon was murderous. "I'll kill that little cunt and I'll chop of his prick!" Jon yelled as he leapt to his feet and went for his sword. Arielle's eyes widened. "No Jon, it's not worth it!" She cried, leaping to her feet also and placing her hands on Jon's chest, staring him in the eyes. "He can't be allowed to get away with it!" Jon shouted again.

"He won't!"

"Then let me get him!" Jon pushed against her hands, a look of outrage on his face.

"No! We have to do this my way. We have to be sneakier than that!"

"Fuck sneakiness Elle! He nearly raped you!" Jon cried. His eyes were wide and his face set in a stormy expression settled on his features and his teeth were gritted. Arielle pushed harder against his chest and spoke up with a stronger voice. "No." She stared deeply into his eyes, willing him to calm down. Soon, his breathing evened out and his shoulders relaxed. He stared back at her, his deep hazel eyes filled with pity and anger still. "I don't want revenge yet. Not before the Baratheons arrive. It'll only raise hell for everyone." Arielle implored. Her hand could feel Jon's heart racing beneath his well-muscled chest causing a slight and unnoticeable blush to spread across her cheeks. Jon was wearing a thin white undershirt and breeches. She had never seen him with this little clothing on. She hoped that her blush was not noticeable. It was not proper for her to be in his chambers anyway at such a late hour. Jon relaxed some under her hand, running a hand through his damp hair which Arielle took as a sign that he was not as murderous.

Arielle dropped her hand and walked past Jon to the window. A chilly wind was flowing through the room that was exactly what she needed to calm down. She let her hair fly back behind her. Her hair had been in a loose half braid, with the rest hanging down but with everything that had just happened the braid had come loose. She pulled the tie from her hair and let It loose, her waves tumbling down her back, the odd strand being caught in the wind. She stared out at Winterfell below. Jon had a beautiful view of the Godswood from here, and she could see the different hues of leaves even in the night time. She sighed deeply and rested her elbow on the window ledge, her hand supporting her chin. Jon came beside her and rubbed her back, calming her down. He could sense that his friend was still distressed and he wanted to help her. He knew of what happened the night that she came to Winterfell, and knew that it must have caused her to panic because of her memories. He wanted to take her mind off it.

"What did Lady Stark talk to you about earlier when I saw you? You looked panicked then?" Jon asked her. Not the best conversation starter he could have used but it was something at least. He inwardly cursed his awkwardness. Arielle sighed and walked away from Jon to the edge of his bed, putting her head in her hands. It had been a very long day indeed. She raised her head again to look at Jon. "I am to be Queen Cersei's handmaiden for the duration of her stay on personal request of Lady Stark." Arielle huffed out, and perhaps somewhat against decorum, flung herself back to lie on Jon's bed width-ways with her calves and feet dangling off the edge. Jon joined her in that position, the two lying side by side, looking at each other. "Wow… you'll be great though. Lady Stark loves you, and so do Arya and Sansa. I'm sure the Queen will too, despite her… reputation." Jon rattled off. He reached out to brush a hair away from Arielle's face that was resting across her mouth. Arielle's eyes followed the movement intently. Her breathing hitched and she swore Jon new, but replied anyway.

"You can't be serious. She'll hate me. She hates all her handmaidens… I don't know why but she just does! It's awful! What, is she worried I'll catch her fucking her brother or something!?" Arielle ranted, but clapped a hand over her mouth at the last sentence, eyes wide and full of horror. "I can't believe I just said that out loud." She spoke, her hand muffling her words. She turned to Jon with fear, only to watch him burst out into raucous laughter, guffawing loudly at the handmaiden's expense, his stomach creasing and eyes watering. Arielle slapped his shoulder, "Stop it! It's not funny!" she cried loudly, only to follow Jon into a fit of giggles, her own eyes watering. "Thank you Jon." She managed to choke out through her laugher.

"What for? I didn't do anything really." He replied, heaving himself up from the bed and offering her his hand. Their laughter had subsided by this point. Arielle reached out with her right hand gripping Jon's tightly as the strong man pulled her up to a standing position. "For letting me hide in here. Speaking of which, it's not very proper for me to be in your chambers after dark, people might talk. I should be going." Arielle turned to leave sadly. She did not want to leave her friend. She was walking towards the door, her hand posed on the handle before Jon spoke up. "Wait, Elle, stay a while longer? I don't want you alone feeling like this." She turned. His voice was soft and gentle and she could tell there was care in his eyes. "Okay, but only for a short while. I have to sleep too you know." Arielle smirked and the hesitation was there, but secretly she was simply glad for his company. He was right, it wasn't wise for her to be alone and feeling as she was. Arielle wandered over to the bed and plonked herself down on the furs cross legged. She knotted her hands deep into the soft grey pelt and stroked it. Jon had a lovely animal fur pelt on his bed that she envied deeply. Jon came and sat opposite her, and the two talked until the early hours of the morning.

By the time that sleep crept up on the two, Arielle had completely forgotten about what happened with Theon earlier in the evening. Her and Jon simply laughed and spoke like they did when the two were growing up as children. In the end, they could barely keep their eyes open and both fell asleep on top of the quilt curled up together.


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: Okay wow, I received two lovely reviews on this chapter so thank you so much to my "Guest" reader and Sheraeade74 for the kind words! This time, can we maybe push it to 4 reviews until I update? I know, I know it might seem mercenary of me, but now I'm back in work I need to make sure that my time is put to good use! Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter of Sixsmith's Sight! As a reward, have a little more awkward fluff between Arielle and Jon! Also, I apologize, because this is just a fluffy filler chapter :P**

TilTate xxx

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Chapter 5

Arielle awoke in the morning groggy eyed and dry-mouthed. A sure sign she had snored through the night. She yawned and was about to stretch out her arms like she did most mornings to wake herself up when she noticed something different. It took her a while to register, but she had awoken in a room that was not her own. She knew she was in Winterfell from the style of the room, but whoever's room was unfamiliar, especially this early in the morning. She squirmed slightly, about to get up and investigate her surroundings when she registered the weight across her midriff. Arielle paused, turning her head slightly to face the source of the weight. It was Jon. Arielle would have gasped had she not clamped a hand over her mouth first. How improper of her! She had spent the night in Jon's room… Lady Stark was sure to crucify her for this; she would never hear the end of it! She would be thrown out of Winterfell and left to rot for violating Jon's reputation and her own. People would think Theon was right, and that she was a whore. Arielle suddenly recalled the night's events, and what had brought her to Jon's chambers in the first place. It was not her fault that she had ended up there, merely chance, but it didn't stop her humiliation.

She froze mid thought and a raging blush spread across her cheeks as Jon seemed to snuggle into her back, tightening his grip on her waist and sighing in his sleep. 'Oh seven hells' thought Arielle. She stiffened in his arms as she felt something poking into her back. 'Jon sleeps with a dagger? OH. Oh no.' She realised slowly, as his morning stiffness pushed against her. Arielle deftly and silently pried his arm from around her waist causing sleeping beauty to roll over, away from her and inhale deeply, murmuring incoherently. She had to get out of here to save her embarrassment. She didn't think she could cope with the shame of Jon waking up and finding himself like _that_ whilst snuggling her. She grinned in spite of herself, a silly expression of glee. Jon Snow was a cuddly sleeper. At least blackmail material against Jon had come from this.

Arielle sat up and slowly lifted herself from the bed then placed her feet on the cold stone floor, shuddering slightly at the sensation. She tiptoed gently to the door picking up her discarded shoes as she went and eased herself out of it, wincing as the door creaked. Jon however, made no movements and slept like a baby still so she slowly let it close behind her. A large grin spread across her cheeks as she leaned back against the door. She couldn't decipher whether it was butterflies or hunger that churned her stomach. The keep was silent as she made her way through the hallways, only hearing the first stirrings of life from the courtyard. It must have been early in the morning, which was good. It might have meant that Arielle got a few more hours sleep before the Stark Ladies awoke too. She made her way back to her quarters with no particular urgency, she had awoken happy and the events of last night no longer troubled her. Jon had cheered her up and her mind was at peace. She had come to realise that Theon, while a massive cunt, would never be able to actually harm her. There would be too many consequences for him.

It was then that Arielle heard the noise. A small whining from a nearby corridor. She decided to investigate the noise, fearing that something was injured. Rounding the corner, the corridor was empty. "Hello?" she called out. This was the guest wing, so no human should be in here. It was being prepared for the house Baratheon's visit. "Hello? Is anyone there?" she tried again. Further down the corridor, she saw a small head poke out from behind a doorway, then a grey paw, then a tiny black snout. It was one of the Stark's direwolf pups. It must have gotten out in the night and gotten lost around the keep. She knelt on the floor holding her hand out gently to the sweet little thing. "Hello sweetling, are you lost?" She spoke gently so as not to spook the pup. She inquisitively looked up at Arielle, padding towards her silently and slowly. His ears were back and heckles up; the little thing was cautious, unsurprising considering its small size and new surroundings. She recognised the pup to be Greywind, the one that belonged to Robb. "Hi boy, come here. It's alright I won't hurt you." Cooed Arielle, coaxing the pup closer to her. When the pup was close enough it stretched its neck out and sniffed her hand, catching her scent carefully. The pair stared into each other's eyes, until Arielle had an idea to gain the pup's trust.

She knew that wolves, Direwolves especially were territorial, and so she lowered her head and closed her eyes, signalling that Greywind was in charge. It was an expression of conceding and trust. At this, Greywind seemed to perk up slightly, padding forwards until sitting on his haunches in front of the handmaiden. He stared at her intently, as though expecting something. Arielle cracked an eye open, and retracted her hand, placing it in her lap. She returned the pup's look. "Now what are we going to do with you hmm?" She huffed, which he seemed to mimic as he tilted his head to the side. "Are you going to come with me? Should I carry you back to Robb or keep you until he awakes. I don't want to bother him this early." Again, Greywind gave no response other than tilting his head. She reached out and scratched the pup's neck, causing his little leg to thump on the ground like a rabbit. Arielle giggled. Direwolves as pups were just like regular dogs. When she stopped stroking him, he crawled forwards panting, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. 'Daft creature,' she thought.

"Come on Grey, with me," She spoke out loud, as if the wolf could understand her, as she picked up the wolf and cradled it in her arms like she had with tiny ghost on the first day. Greywind immediately settled and allowed Arielle to carry him without complaint. Well, there was no going to sleep now. She wondered if any of the other Stark's would be awake as she carried little Grey through the halls. It wasn't unusual for Rickon and Bran to wake early, and they both had Direwolves too. Maybe she could leave Greywind with one of those two? Bran and Rickon had quarters close to their parents, as per Lady Starks request, so she was relieved she wouldn't have to be seen wandering through the older Stark boy's corridors this early yet again. Someone may get the wrong idea… again.

As she neared Bran's room, she could hear muffled voices and quiet whispers coming from inside. She knocked gently and heard a chorus of "Come in." Arielle smiled gently. Rickon and Bran were in there together. The pair were inseparable. Greywind seemed to perk up at the familiar voices and mewls coming from within the room, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth yet again. Arielle pushed the door open gently. "Morning boys. I think Greywind escaped Robb's room in the night, I found him in the corridor this morning. Can I leave him with you two to look after him?" Arielle smiled gently. Bran and Rickon were sitting on the bed with their pups playing between them. The pair had large grins on their faces as they saw it was Arielle. Greywind struggled again in her arms, eager to meet his siblings. She giggled and placed him on the bed, laughing with the two as she put the writhing pup down on the bed. "Of course Arielle." Laughed Bran along with her.

"Did you both sleep alright? You're up awfully early." Asked Arielle. The two boys shared a glance and nodded, giggling as though they had a secret. Arielle smiled at the pair. With Bran aged 7 and Rickon aged 5 the pair were young, but you would never find one without the other. Bran had a penchant for climbing whereas Rickon was a kind and lovely boy. He was soft and preferred more feminine activities. Whilst Arielle didn't think that was a bad thing, there were others who certainly did.

"Alright then. I'll leave you to it. If you need anything, you know where I am!" She called as she exited the room to the sounds of growling pups and giggling children. It was a nice way to wake up in the mornings, feeling surrounded by friends and family. The Starks were seemingly the only family in the whole of the seven kingdoms who appeared to be happy as a unit. She, and everyone else, knew of the problems the Baratheons and Lannisters faced. There were basically no Targaryen children left, apart from the siblings who lived across the ocean. She knew of no family happier than the Starks. Isolation from the world meant they could be a family without excessive politics being involved she guessed. Arielle decided to continue the journey to her room, only to get changed. She did not think that she would be able to sleep again after the events of the morning. When she arrived, she braided half her hair intricately and changed into a nicer and less rumpled gown. She pinched her cheeks to add some colour to them and gazed into her looking glass to asses herself. She would do. Her quarters were modest but nicer than those of the other servants in Winterfell. She guessed it was a luxury due to her relationship with the Stark family. In a way, she knew it was unjust, there were others who had served the Starks for longer and better, but she wasn't exactly going to turn it away out of justice. She believed in doing right, but she wasn't stupid or ungrateful.

She left her room shortly after in a slightly better mood as life was beginning to start in the courtyard below, vendors opening stalls and smiths opening their forges. Arielle made her way to Lady Sansa's room first. She was always awake before Arya, and much easier to deal with in a morning. She reacted a lot better to being awoken early. Arielle knocked lightly on the door to Sansa's room, pushing gently when she heard no response from within. "Lady Sansa?" She called gently. Her bed was empty and sheets already neatly folded. 'How strange', thought Arielle, 'Someone has done my job for me, it seems.' She huffed and closed the door behind her, making her way to Lady Arya's room. Her brow was furrowed as she strode down the hallway. She knocked abruptly on Lady Arya's door and received the same response from within that she had in Sansa's room. Silence. "Arya? Are you in here?" She called, pushing the door open slightly. Again she frowned and sighed. 'What in the hell is going on?!' thought Arielle. She was getting concerned now. She ran down to the great hall where she knew Lady and Lord Stark would be. Was she incredibly late to awake? She can't have been. Winterfell was barely awake when she was!

When Arielle reached the great hall and pushed open the doors, she was once again surprised to see a flurry of activity. Jon, Theon and he Starks were all here in their sleep-clothes, even Rickon and Bran must have made their way down before her! She supressed a blush when she saw Jon. 'Now is not the time for that' she thought to herself. She frowned at the amount of panic on everyone's faces. Lord Eddard's brow was furrowed intensely, and all the Starks looked grim. The servants were running round like headless chickens and carrying round massive boxes of various goods. Everyone looked panicked. Arielle raced to the side of Lady Catelyn. "My Lady, my sincerest apologies I have not been here, I had expected to find everyone in their chambers but I was mistaken. It may not be my place to ask, but what is the panic about?" Arielle was on edge as she approached Lady Stark but she could tell that Lady Stark and Lord Stark were more so.

"Ah, Arielle, I was just about to send Robb to find you. This concerns you too. We received a raven this morning, the King is not arriving in two weeks. He is arriving today. He has decided to come early." Lady Stark was pale and looked as though she was about to collapse. Arielle was sure she didn't look much better. She inhaled sharply and thought of Queen Cersei and her duties. "Do not worry about this morning dear. The girls are yet to ready themselves but they will need your aid." Arielle nodded sternly at Lady Catelyn's expression. Anything she could do to help she would. "Of course my Lady."

"My sons and Jon need aid getting ready too today, someone to help them with their regal clothes. You will do that for me as well today." Lady Catelyn commanded. Arielle nodded once again, happy at the prospect of spending time with her friends despite the gravity of the situation. "And you my Lady? Do you require anything of me?" Arielle asked, she wanted to fulfil her duty as best as she could to ease the troubles of the day for Lady and Lord Stark. She knew Lord Eddard was struggling to wrap his head round the situation from the expression on his aged face. His mouth was set in a grim expression and his eyes avoiding those around him.

"No Arielle. Today your duty is to my children." Arielle nodded and smiled at Lady Catelyn. "The king will arrive by nightfall. He is a day's ride away. Go, prepare what you need to. You know what I need you to do. Be well Arielle."

Arielle curtseyed low and spoke proudly. "Of course Lady Stark, I will do my duty with the gravity it commands."


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: HIYA YOU LOT! Prepare yourselves for a big one! This chapter should be DOUBLE the length because of what happens! HOWEVER: I am now in Madrid for 5 weeks working, and therefore will not have a lot of time for updating, so over the next few weeks, updates will be scarce if any. Please do not think I have abandoned this story because I have not. This story is my baby. In order for the next update to occur, over the next 5 weeks I need AT LEAST 5 reviews! Hasta Luego! 3**

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The arrival

True to her promise, Arielle bathed, clothed and braided the hair of both Stark girls, both of whom complied to her wishes without any struggle. Even Arya, who despised the severity of her formal dress and robes complied with no resistance; she understood the severity of the situation for her parents and dutifully did as she was commanded. She looked beautiful after Arielle had finished too, a proper little Lady much to Arya's distaste. Arielle could sense the tension and solemnity throughout the keep. Sansa radiated excitement at the arrival of Prince Joffrey Lannister, however Arielle knew there was something odd about the boy and not just in his appearance. Seven Hells, he was a Lannister. There was _bound_ to be something odd about him.

She aided Robb in his formal wear and shaving, ensuring he was neat and tidy for his mother's approval. He looked much younger without the beard he usually sported. The two of them chatted amicably but she could see the tension in Robb's muscles and jaw. He smiled tightly, and it never quite reached his eyes, which upset Arielle. She hated seeing him upset. Once she had strapped on his cape, he turned to face her. "You must be careful Arielle. Lady Cersei is very dangerous. I don't want to see you hurt." Robb spoke with sincerity, and she smiled at her friend, squeezing his shoulder. "Relax Robb, Lady Cersei has no reason to hurt me, don't worry. I won't pry or contradict her. I'll be the best handmaiden she's ever had." Arielle smiled sadly. She was grateful for Robb's concern but she was still scared herself. She would need his support in the coming week. As though sensing her fear, he enveloped her in his arms squeezing her tight. It was rare that Robb showed himself as scared but this was a sure sign that the entirety of Winterfell was rattled. She hugged Robb's waist gently, swaying from side to side with him. He pulled back and held her shoulders. "Promise me something? Stay safe. You're like a sister… I don't want to see you hurt." Robb grimaced. She smiled at him and near-whispered back: "I promise. You too okay? I have to go and tend to Jon." Robb squeezed her shoulders reassuringly and released her, watching her leave, the intricate braid in her hair reflecting the light streaming through the window.

Arielle made her way to Jon's room slowly. It was still morning yet, the sun had not reached its peak in the sky, so she was ahead of schedule. Jon was the last person she had to prepare for the day before aiding Lady Stark personally. When she reached Jon's door, she knocked twice and called out "Jon? It's me."

"Who's me?" He called out. She could hear the smirk in his voice the cheeky idiot. Arielle pushed open the door to reveal Jon getting his clothes from his chest in the corner of the room. She closed the door behind her and dragged the chair that was behind his writing desk into the middle of the room, bringing his wash pot next to the chair. She left Jon to lie his clothes on the bed as she brought his shaving soap from the washroom, and found his razor. Jon knew he had to shave to appear presentable for the royal family but acknowledged this begrudgingly. Arielle was deliberately avoiding eye contact with him, her embarrassment from this morning consuming her thoughts.

She was worried Jon would say something about it and all she wanted was to push things to the back of her mind. She needed something routine; she needed not to think. Arielle took a breath about to call him over, but she needn't have asked even opened her mouth Jon was in front of her, shirtless, in an instant. Arielle's jaw snapped shut and her eyes widened. Sure, she had shaved Robb shirtless, but Robb was practically her brother. Jon however gave her butterflies and made her stomach churn. Arielle fought a blush that was threatening to overcome her entire head and limited it to her cheeks. Shaving Robb had been something she could joke about, she could spray foam in his face, threaten to slit his throat as a joke. Heck, with Robb she could speak; with Jon she was left speechless. She lathered up the soap bar and gently rubbed it against Jon's jaw and neck, on both sides. She then put it down and rested the blade against the skin on his neck, leaning in closer to make sure she caught every individual hair. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and the pair locked eyes. Blue met deep brown. "Ready?" she asked softly.

"Of course." He replied, a deep flush of red appearing across both of their cheeks. Arielle carefully swept downwards with the razor, being careful not to cut his skin. Her motions with the blade were gentle in nature, yet repetitive in rhythm and action. Jon watched her intently, putting her on the spot as she looked everywhere but his face. After some time of this ritual, she tapped the razor against the edge of the ceramic bowl filled with water, and laid it down. "finished." She declared quietly. Jon reached for the towel at his side and wiped his face dry with it, then stood to look in the mirror. "You did a good job." Jon smiled at her, and her stomach flipped once again, doing summersaults inside her. "Thank you." Arielle smiled back genuinely, however the awkwardness was still clouding her head. What on earth was happening to her?! "Would you like help dressing?" she continued quietly. Arielle stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, arms folded in front of her. She was not looking at Jon, but past him, anywhere but him, he noted. "I would, but only if you stop being so silent with me. What's gotten into you?!" He questioned desperately, as he stepped towards her. Arielle's eyes widened at the question, her discomfort growing by the minute. "N-nothing." She stammered out, only to be scoffed at by Jon.

"Nonsense. It's not nothing. You've not been this shy and withdrawn with me since we first met, and that was seven years ago. When I woke up this morning you were gone? Where did you go?" Jon pushed, taking steps towards her until the pair were standing close. Arielle could have counted the individual hairs on his chest with the distance between them-or lack of. She was speechless. She couldn't explain to him the risk of impropriety, about Lady Stark, or about his _problem_. She didn't know what to say and simply stammered out incoherent syllables. He was so _close_ to her. She could barely think, never mind form and eloquent response. She looked down and took a deep breath, calming herself. It was just Jon. She had grown up with him, she was his friend. The pair knew everything about each other, so why was she being so flipping awkward? Arielle looked back up into Jon's eyes. "I honestly don't know. I was worried you might think our falling asleep together improper, or what about Theon or Lady Stark found out? I'm just a handmaiden Jon, it's not my place. I thought… I thought you might be angry with me." Arielle trailed off seeing Jon's eyes soften and a small, sad, bitter smile appeared on his face. "I'm just Ned Stark's bastard. If anything I'd damage your reputation." Arielle shook her head vigorously, hair flying about.

"No Jon, no. That wasn't what I meant AT ALL. I just… I…" Jon cut her off and walked over to the clothes he had laid out on his bed. It was his smartest uniform Arielle noted. She had never seen him wear it before. "It's alright Arielle. Now come help me get ready." She sighed at the sad look in his eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt or upset him. Tears welled in her eyes and her throat became thick. It felt like there was a large animal sitting on her chest and clawing at her stomach. Is this what guilt felt like? "No… Jon… I didn't mean it like that, I didn't! I'm so sorry Jon, You… you're not… It hasn't mattered to me at all before and doesn't now. It's never mattered. You're still my…" Arielle trailed off as Jon's head snapped up. He seemed to be stricken with her crying and strolled back over to her, placing both hands on the side of her face, cupping it gently. He swiped his thumbs under her eyes keeping the tears at bay that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. He looked sad. "I know Elle, I'm sorry. I know you're not like that. I know it. It was stupid of me to say that. Now come on. Get me into this thing." Arielle nodded, putting on a stiff upper lip as she followed Jon over to the bed.

He put his undershirt on himself, she knew she did not have to help him with that. She picked up the heavy cloth over-shirt and held it out for him, allowing him to slide his arms through, shrugging it on. Arielle deftly maneuvered under his arm and round his front, buttoning up the front of his shirt. Her nimble fingers worked quickly over the fabric. Once finished with that, she moved behind him once again and held up the fine overcoat, which held the clasps for his cloak and furs. Pushing his arms through the heavy item of clothing, Arielle once again moved round to his front and clasped the overcoat shut near his ribs. She made sure to adjust his collar so that it sat comfortably for him, her cold fingers brushing his neck, causing Jon to shudder. "You okay?" Arielle questioned. "Cold hands." Jon murmured in reply. She retaliated by pushing them against his newly smooth cheeks to warm them up. "Ahhh…. Much better." She sighed cheekily, a smirk adorning her features at his squished face.

She giggled and moved round the back of him once more, hauling his cloak off the bed and attaching it via the clasps that lay on his shoulders. Once on, she stepped back. "Turn and face me?" Arielle asked quietly and contemplatively, assessing her friend's appearance and whether he was fit to be seen by the king. Arielle smiled widely. He looked like a Lord, if not a young king with little jewellery. She smiled gently. "What?" Jon asked. It was then she realised she had been staring like an idiot instead of actually saying anything. "Oh. Um. You look really regal… you look like a Lord." Arielle smiled shyly. She could have sworn Jon blushed and murmured a quick 'thank you' under his breath. Looking down at the floor, almost too shy to meet Jon's eyes (Gosh why was she such a wimp today?!) she tidied up Jon's room again, moving the furniture back to where it originally was. She turned to say goodbye to the raven haired man, only to find him staring at himself in the mirror with a furrowed brow.

"Jon? Are you alright?" She asked solemnly. He didn't reply, and she wasn't sure if he had even registered what she had said to him. Slowly, she walked up behind him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder so as not to startle him. He gently wrapped an arm round her waist but didn't move from looking in the mirror. "Jon?" Arielle prompted, her own face appearing in the mirror beside him, her long hair cascading down her back, swept back from her face. He seemed to break out of whatever spell it was that he was under and came back to the real world for a moment, to respond with a simple smile and nod. It didn't seem genuine; that much she knew about Jon. She could always tell when he was lying. Arielle squeezed his shoulder and turned away from the mirror, heading for the door. Pulling it open, Arielle was hoping he would stop her like he did last night, but now was not the time for silly fantasies. The king and Queen of the seven kingdoms were going to be arriving in Winterfell any hour now. It was time she made an effort in her own appearance. With one last glance behind her at Jon, who had not moved from the mirror, she closed the door behind her.

Arielle slowly made her way back to her rom to draw herself a bath. Once the door of her room had closed shut behind her, she unlaced her dress and let it fall from her shoulders. She had been preparing the water for the bath since this morning so it was hot and ready for as soon as she got in, because she had assumed she would have less time. Arielle lowered herself into the bath gently, her skin almost scalding from the boiling water, but that was how she liked it. Her mind wandered to the visit of the king and queen. She was nervous for their arrival, but more nervous to be queen Cersei's handmaiden. She rather liked her head. She had decided to present herself as regally as humanly possible, wearing the finest gown that Lady Catelyn had made for her when she came of age. It was a light lilac colour, and was modest yet beautiful. She wanted to make herself up to the queen's standard.

After washing her hair and body, Arielle lifted herself from the bath and wrapped her hair in a towel. She put on her under clothes, then a corset on top, lacing it tightly at the front. Over the top went her lilac dress. The fluted and billowing sleeves made it look like one of the dresses that she often saw Sansa wear, however there were a few subtle differences. The dress Arielle wore laced up in the front, whereas Sansa's often crossed over and tied at the hip. As an older lady, hers were more fitted to her curved figure, whereas Sansa's could often be boyish around the waist making her appear flat, and thin, which at only fourteen, she was. Arielle unwrapped her hair from the towel then braided it while still wet, it meant that there would be a slight curl to her hair which was considered to be a sign of beauty in the south, so she hoped the queen liked it. She left her face bare, not even pinching her cheeks and dabbed some wildflower water on her wrists and neck, making her smell like daisies in the Godswood. She loved the Godswood and being close to nature, it made her feel at home and alive, part of why she loved the north so much, she assumed. She moved over to the large mirror on the other side of the room. The girl who stared back at her was almost unrecognisable. Almost. She still held some of Arielle's trademarks, like the freckles spattered over her face; the beauty mark beneath her right eye; the mismatched smile that was slightly lopsided and, of course, the nasty burn scar mottling the skin on her right shoulder. She smiled, but with a slight grimace. It was invisible in the dress but the memories she had from the day she got it were not.

Looking out of the window, she saw it was drawing to mid-afternoon and the sun was low in the sky, so Arielle stepped out of her room to find Lady Stark. She was sure the Royal family were to arrive soon. Her first guess, the great hall of the keep, turned out to be the correct one. It was there that she found Lord and Lady Stark, Theon, Arya, Sansa and Robb, who all turned to look at who was the one to disturb their apparent family conference. "Lady Stark, I have done everything you have asked of me." Curtsied Arielle, then walked to the bottom of the steps below where the Starks were. Lady Catelyn was beaming at her, and opened her mouth as though to speak, then decided against it. She simply nodded her head as a gesture of thanks. "Is there anything else I can aid with Lady Stark?" She asked quietly, not needing to speak loudly as her voice echoed through the almost empty hall. "No Arielle," Spoke Lady Catelyn. "You have fulfilled your duties, and might I say you have done a splendid job on my daughters." Her eyes twinkled as she spoke, a sure sign that Lady Cat was happy. Arielle simply nodded her head gracefully, and was about to leave when the doors to the great hall burst wide open and a flushed, out of breath scout charged through the door, stopping just short of Arielle herself. "Milord, Milady. They're here." He huffed out. His bright red face was a testament to just how fast he had run she guessed.

"Come everyone. Let us go and greet my old, dear friend." Lord Eddard sighed, there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. As the Starks ascended to the courtyard with Arielle in tow, she noticed the fears on everyone's faces. From the simple vendors and inhabitants all the way to the Starks themselves. "Now," Shouted Lord Eddard loudly, his gruff voice echoing across the silent courtyard, "You all know the formation. When the king enters the gate, you bow. You do not move until after I have arisen and greeted him. Understood?" Everyone nodded silently. The whole of Winterfell felt a great deal of respect for Lord Eddard. He was not a cruel ruler, but a fair and kind one. He showed mercy and valued justice over all. Arielle believed that this is what made him a better ruler than King Robert himself. Jon, Rickon and Bran descended into the courtyard, the children bounding around giddily to their places next to their sisters. Arielle was to stand behind Lady Stark and next to Jon so that she could be introduced to the queen with ease. As she slipped into place with Jon behind her, she started to tremble like a lead in the wind. Jon appeared to spot this and simply reached out subtly, gently gripping her hand with a reassuring squeeze. She smiled gratefully in response.

Trumpets were heard in the distance and the courtyard seemed to grow still, as though stuck in time. The only tell-tale signs of life being the flapping of the house banners in the wind, and the ruffling of people's hair in the breeze. Jon had dropped Arielle's hand and was standing stoically, arms clasped in front of him. She was unsurprised with his seemingly frosty exterior, he was nervous himself as to how King Robert would greet her. Arielle wanted to turn and reassure him that everything would be okay, but she knew her duty was to stand still, eyes front and remain calm. The sound of drums accompanied the trumpets along with the thumping of horse's hooves on the frozen mud. The wind was biting and had left a layer of frost throughout the courtyard. A stream of knights marched into the courtyard in rows of two, their armour glinting in the light. She knew these men to be members of the Kings Guard, a group of glorified bandits in Arielle's opinion. A rider on a large black stallion came bursting through the gates, doing a lap of the courtyard before coming to a halt. The rider wore the black war armour of the Baratheons and Arielle instantly knew this to be the king. Behind him came his polar opposite, a rider in pale gold armour on a white stallion, who bore the crest of the Lannisters upon the side of his horse.

It was the Kingslayer: Jaime Lannister. Some said he was the most attractive man in Westeros, but Arielle had yet to see him for herself. Besides, if the only girl he could successfully fuck was his sister, how attractive could he really be? A Carriage carrying what Arielle could only assume to be the rest of the Royal family was carried in by knights following the Kingslayer. She couldn't decide whether she was shaking out of fear or cold at this point. She watched carefully, ignoring Ser Jaime's display of grandeur in his dismount and removal of his helmet. Instead she watched as a delicate foot, then gown emerged from the carriage. It was the queen. She was a lot more beautiful than Arielle had imagined, with flowing golden locks, a cinched waist and plump lips she was every man's dream. King Robert was a lucky man. Arielle bent her knee to kneel when the King dismounted, the entirety of Winterfell seemingly dropping all at once. She bent her head low, as was expected of her, and waited until the King spoke to Lord Eddard. "Ned. You've gotten fat." He spat out bitterly, a glare on his face. "So have you, your grace." Responded a deadpan Ned Stark. If she did not know that the King and Lord Eddard were close friends, almost brothers at one point, she would have been horrified. Surely enough, the pair broke into raucous laughter, embracing tightly. Arielle smiled lightly despite herself at the display of affection between the two men. Such a display of amity was rare in this day and age, especially between nobility.

Along with the rest of Winterfell, Arielle stood once more, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "May I introduce my family." Continued Lord Eddard. "My eldest Robb, who you have met before your grace." Robb bowed and muttered a greeting to the King, who chuckled heartily. "A strapping young lad you are too. Bet you get all the ladies after you!" He clapped Robb on the shoulder, who stumbled slightly under the weight of the impact of the fat man's hand. The king simply nodded at Greyjoy, who bowed lowly and murmured 'your grace' under his breath. Ugh… Worm. Once the King had greeted the family, he and Ned walked together into the great hall, leaving the introductions of his wife and children behind. Lady Stark gestured for me to take a step forward. I gulped. This was to be my first impression upon the queen. "And this, your grace, is my finest handmaiden, who is to supply you with anything you might need throughout the duration of your stay. I assure you she is quite capable and excellent at her duties." Arielle curtsied gracefully, bowing her head, and righting herself again. "Your grace, I am honoured to serve under you for the duration of your stay," Arielle simpered, attempting to gain good karma, "I know that I will not disappoint you."

The queen smiled, but it was unclear to Arielle whether the spite that seemed behind it was genuine or whether all the queen's smiles looked like grimaces. "You're a pretty little thing are you. Yes, I'm sure you won't disappoint." Queen Cersei placed a gentle hand under Arielle's chin and tipped her head upwards, turning her head left and right, before releasing her. "First command: walk with your head high, anyone as… lucky as you should wear it proudly. Come along." Muttered the queen. Arielle nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She felt like she had been thrown into the pit with an angry serpent that could swallow her whole at any time. She felt like she was being toyed with and it made her nervous. "Yes, your grace." She murmured, catching Jon's eye as she walked past who nodded slightly at her, a nervous smile twitching at the edge of his lips. Arielle took this as a sign of encouragement, and padded softly behind the queen into the keep.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you so much to all the lovely people who have reviewed/followed/favourited this story, it's such a nice feeling to know that you all appreciate what I'm writing :P in order for the next chapter to be released I want a minimum of 5 reviews please! I have like 30 followers and 20 favourites or something so I know it's not impossible!

"So tell me child, how old are you?"

"18, your Grace."

"And you're not married yet?"

"No your Grace."

"And where did you grow up?"

"Here, your Grace, in Winterfell."

"And do you have any family?"

"A brother, your Grace. In the Night's Watch." The interrogation was never ending. The Queen was asking question after question wanting to know the ins and outs of Arielle's life. She was exhausted and had only just shown the Queen to her quarters. "Your parents?" The Queen pushed. Arielle inhaled sharply and looked to the floor, not daring to meet the Queen's eyes. "Dead, your grace. My mother died in childbirth, my father on the King's road." She looked up at Queen Cersei. The Queen was staring at her with an odd look, one could almost mistake it for sympathy but Arielle knew that Queen Cersei had a reputation for cruelty. She knew that sympathy was beyond the Queen's emotional capacity, otherwise she'd stop cheating on her husband with her brother, despite the King's own infidelity. "I'm sorry." Spoke the Queen softly. "I know what it's like to grow up without a mother. Mine own died in childbirth with my dwarf brother Lord Tyrion. I assume you haven't had the misfortune to meet him yet? Anyway, it's difficult. I know. You have my sincerest sympathy." Arielle smiled and nodded, a small gesture, afraid of offending the Queen through speaking further. She would speak only when spoken to she had decided. "My deepest thanks, your Grace. It is an honour to serve someone as benevolent and kind as yourself." Arielle too spoke softly, her gaze returning to the floor once more, causing the Queen's lip to curl as the girl defied her previous instruction.

Cersei had taken time to study the small girl, she reminded her of a small bird such as a blue tit or sparrow, fragile and breakable. Flighty. Timid. Jaime had once killed a sparrow with a bow and arrow, and had given it to her as a gift. It seemed fitting that she received yet another. When she saw Arielle, instantly she was struck by her handmaiden's beauty, and held a tad of resentment for the younger girl. She had been that beautiful when she was younger too. She had gleaned all the attention from every boy in King's Landing, and had never failed to capture the eye of everyone she passed. She envied Arielle. With her long chestnut hair, lean frame and big blue eyes she was sure that Arielle too caught the attention of all of the men in Winterfell. She had seen the Stark boys gazing after her when she had arrived and taken the girl into the keep, and was no fool. She would find out which one of them her handmaiden was fucking in due time but, for now, she was tired and wanted to rest, although lacking the luxurious amenities she had grown accustomed to in the capital.

"Now, let us move on to less morbid matters: your duties." The Queen adopted a regale and 'to-the-point' tone of voice, that of a highborn Queen. Arielle suddenly felt very small- perhaps even smaller than before when the Queen had first addressed her. "I will want my hair brushing, chamber pot emptying, room tidying et-cetera. I want you to help me bathe, dress and escort me around Winterfell until I learn my bearings. Yes?" Arielle nodded and curtsied lowly. "For now? You're dismissed. I want to sleep. I will summon you when I awake before supper." Arielle breathed a secret sigh of relief. Time away from the queen meant time spent with Jon, Robb and the other Starks, which she was glad for. A moment of normality was much required. "Of course, your Grace. I await your summons with eager ears." Arielle simpered, curtsying once more then leaving. She was caught by the queen with her hand on the door handle. "Oh, and Arielle? Arielle turned to face the Queen. "Yes, your Grace?" she replied dutifully.

"I rather like your hair like that. You will do mine the same this evening." The Serpent Queen smiled as Arielle nodded timidly and scampered away. Cersei knew the girl was scared and almost liked toying with her. It was like watching an ant under glass, making it squirm under the burning heat, which was something she had done a lot in her childhood. Whilst she did genuinely feel a tinge of sympathy for the younger girl, she soon shook herself out of it. Most peasants grew up without parents and this one was no different. Cersei decided to have the girl followed by one of her inside dwellers of the keep. She had them in all seven corners of the kingdom, but there was something about this girl that intrigued her, like a cripple you just can't bear to look away from because there's something so fascinating about it. She had been the cause of many cripples in her own lifetime, and should Arielle wrong her, Cersei decided she would end up no different. If she fulfilled her duties properly however, Cersei decided she might just take her with them. Take away the Stark family head and their precious little slave slut. 'Yes', thought Cersei, 'that should leave them rattled'.

As Arielle left the Queen's Quarters, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had survived her first encounter with the serpent of King's Landing. She found herself feeling oddly triumphant about this, proud of her ability to adapt to whatever situation she's in. It came as no surprise to her that the Queen had a sharp tongue, after all, she lived with hundreds of servants to do her bidding every day. Arielle decided to wander round the castle and seek out her friends for a bit of relief before fulfilling her duties later that night. She wandered out of the keep and into the courtyard, seeing the dregs of the King's Guard lingering outside and relaxing after their journey. Amongst them was Jaime Lannister. It was said that Ser Jaime was the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms, and Arielle couldn't help but admit he _was_ rather pretty, but he was too feminine for her. With his long golden hair and chiselled looks she couldn't help but think he looked too much like his sister, but then again he was so self-obsessed that it's probably why he fucks her-because they look the same. She kept her head high as she wandered past the leering guards, and shuddered internally. Too many men in the keep meant too much cock-fighting. She didn't mean in the chicken sense either. When there were too many men around things usually got heated, like when the men returned from patrol. She couldn't help but wonder how Jon, Lord Eddard and Robb and all the others (bar Theon of course) managed to keep themselves under control so well, but seemingly all the other men in the north ended up lecherous? It perplexed her.

Arielle saw Robb by the blacksmith and beckoned him over with a small wave. He smiled at her and lightly jogged through the throngs of people who were milling about the Keep. "Arielle," He grinned, "You're not dead." He patted her on the back in a congratulatory gesture causing her to push Robb lightly on the shoulder. "Oh shut up Robb, I'll have you know I am an excellent handmaiden." She grinned wolfishly and started to walk backwards, prompting the eldest Stark boy to follow her whilst engaging her in conversation. "So how is Her Majesty the Queen?" Robb prodded, "As the rumours say or not?" Arielle grimaced and kept her voice low. How had the queen been with her? She couldn't say anything unpleasant because the Queen had kept conversation practical and to the point. However, something didn't sit right in Arielle's chest. "I don't know. She was perfectly lovely to me but there always seems to be a lack of genuine-ness about her. She makes me nervous and her smiles don't reach her eyes. It's more like a grimace." Arielle spoke lowly for fear of being overheard, however this meant her walking in the right direction and slightly closer to Robb.

Unbeknownst to her, Lady Cersei's spies were lurking in the nooks and crannies of Winterfell, and whilst they couldn't hear her, they could most definitely see her intimacy with Robb and would most definitely report back to the queen on her activities. "I know what you mean. There's something about the whole Lannister family isn't there. They're just… snakey. They're not lions. Lions are proud and noble. The Lannisters are snakes. Lord help them when Lord Tywin dies." Robb too spoke quietly. If anyone had heard them talking like this it meant treason, and an automatic execution, courtesy of the hand of Jaime Lannister. Neither of them wanted that. Arielle smiled grimly and nodded, in a way, she pitied Lord Tywin because he had three rotten children. She had heard of Lord Tyrion's penchant for whores and liquor too. 'He must be so proud' she thought bitterly. "How are you?" She asked him, as the pair sat down on a bench close to the entrance of the Godswood. "Me? Oh I'm fine. I'm just the token eldest son at the moment and the King doesn't have any children old enough for me so I'm passing under the radar fairly easily." Robb smiled with satisfaction but again it didn't seem genuine.

The Royal Family arriving had cast an even larger shadow than that of Winter's approach, because everyone knew what it meant: King Robert Baratheon was going to ask Eddard Stark to be the hand of the King. That position was curse and everyone knew it, although there was hope that Lord Eddard would be the best for as long as he could be. It was known that Lord Eddard was a fair and just man so there was an inkling of hope peeking out from behind the grey political cloud cast over King's Landing. Arielle smiled and nodded, unsure of what to say. "Lucky you," she jeered, shoving the Stark boy on the shoulder once more causing the two to laugh. "I'm scared." Arielle spoke as the mood became more sombre between the pair. She lay her head on Robb's shoulder, thankful for the older brother role he had taken on. "Me too…" Muttered Rob quietly, as though she weren't meant to hear. His stubble scratched the top of her head as he spoke and she was suddenly reminded of when her father's beard used to do the same when he kissed her goodnight. She smiled sadly at the memory.

As Robb and herself sat there relaxing amongst the chaos, Arielle's mind drifted to Jon. She wondered how he was faring, and wanted to talk to him about earlier some more… He was as perplexing to her as Tyrion Lannister was to the world. "I'm going to find Jon." She spoke softly, her words startling Robb and breaking the peace nonetheless. He smirked roguishly and shook his head. "Of course you are." He drew out the first syllable, adapting a sarcastic and condescending tone. "What?!" cried Arielle as she stood and turned to face the young future Lord. "Can a girl not seek out a friend?!" her tone was pointed as she stood with her hip cocked and arms crossed, tapping her foot in front of her friend. A grin threatened to tug at the sides of her mouth as she knew what Robb was implying. Of course she had a soft spot for Jon, but he was her _friend_ and Robb knew it. He just loved teasing her. "Yes, of course. It's just you seem to spend a lot of time with this _friend."_ Robb chuckled and looked up at her from beneath his eyelashes. She had to admit, Robb was handsome, but he was nothing but a brother to her, he always had been. He had helped his father care for her; look after her and he treated her the same then that he did with Arya now. Arielle childishly blew a raspberry at Robb, stomped her foot and twirled to walk away, causing Robb to burst into noisy, harsh and unstifled laughter.

As Arielle was walking, she wondered where Jon would be. When stressed, he usually went to train or went for a ride, so she decided to check the stables and see if his horse was there indicating whether she should continue her search or not. Unfortunately, this meant traversing once more through the throngs of lecherous old men and King's Guardsmen. Arielle walked quickly through the courtyard, avoiding meeting the eyes of any men she passed as though praying for them not to engage her in conversation. This tactic worked to some extent, until she got to the actual stables themselves, wherein upon entry she was faced with possibly her worst nightmare: A drunken passed out Lord Tyrion Lannister. Oh lord, what was she to do now?! The stench was already making her want to pass out but this? Seven Hells. Arielle tiptoed forwards. Lord Tyrion was snoring loudly, and she was surprised nobody had found him earlier. "Um… My Lord?" she spoke softly, kneeling at his side. The fumes surrounding the drunken dwarf were putrid and the stench made her gag. "Lord Tyrion?" She spoke a little louder, prodding the small man on the arm. He swatted at her hand in his sleep and rolled away from her. Annoyed, Arielle lifted herself off the ground and shouted at the top of her lungs. "LORD TYRION LANNISTER, WAKE UP!" Which just about did the trick, causing the dwarf to jump off the ground in fright and whip out a small dagger, his eyes wide and panicked.

"My Lord… I… You were passed out, and I thought it best to wake you before anyone else found you. I'm your sister's handmaiden. Are you quite alright?" She spoke quietly now, and had backed away from him slightly upon catching eye of the dagger. Lord Tyrion sagged under the weight of his headache and grimaced, closing his eyes and swaying slightly. The dagger had dropped onto the floor by this point and once Lord Tyrion had opened his eyes he forced them to focus on the girl in front of him. She was small, petite but very pretty. She looked like one of his higher quality whores, one of the ones who would twist herself into all sorts of positions for his enjoyment. He shook his head and cleared the images of the girl before him bending over backwards and sliding onto his- nope. He wouldn't think like that in public or he might just have another predicament to fix. It was then that he realised he had simply been staring at the girl for the past minute and hadn't yet spoken. The girl was looking at him peculiarly, with and expression he hadn't seen in a long time: concern. There was not a hint of disgust at his drunken and disorderly state. It was then that he decided he quite liked the timid handmaiden.

"Hmm? Oh, yes I'm fine. Thank you my dear…?" He trailed off quite clearly expecting Arielle to give her name. "Oh, Arielle milord. Are you alright? Can I fetch you some water or…?" She too trailed off. It would seem both of the pair felt awkward at their current predicament. "Oh, Arielle, no. Thank you. Wine however would be nice. I would appreciate it, however, if wind of this situation didn't reach… _certain_ ears however." Lord Tyrion gestured a lot with his hands, Arielle noted. He spoke with an air of calm and tranquillity however his eyes seemed to scream a different message which Arielle understood perfectly. ' _don't tell my sister'_ was the obvious cry. "Don't worry milord. My lips are sealed. And… if I may…. Are you sure more wine is a good idea? I wouldn't want to find you passed out in the kennels next? The bitches are in season and it has a strange effect on the other dogs." Arielle smiled cheekily, hoping Lord Tyrion would appreciate her humour.

The dwarf lord had a reputation for going against his family and being somewhat more appreciative of the common lifestyle. Arielle still found him deplorable but she could relate more to him than she could to any of the other Lannisters, for she too had been the cause of her mother's death. Lord Tyrion smirked, clearly amused by his sister's handmaiden. What had her name been again? Ah! Yes. Arielle. He quite liked this one. "Solid advice Miss Arielle. And with that I shall be on my way. You'll know where to find me in the morning tomorrow." He smirked and barked like a dog momentarily forgetting where he was and that he was not, in fact, a Lord. Arielle giggled, a sweet sound lost to the rumblings of the stable and the world outside. "Until tomorrow then, milord. I'll try to get there before your brother or sister." Arielle waved, watching Lord Tyrion depart. She breathed a sigh of relief that the little lord had not decided to take her head after all. She looked round the stables once more to see if Jon's horse was here, which lo and behold it was. This meant Jon was within Winterfell keep and she would have to continue her search. She only hoped she got to see him before the feast this evening wherein she would struggle to talk to him as it was not 'her place'.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Another long one now! This is the feast preparation and I'm expecting a lot to happen in this chapter even though it's kind of a filler. I had a lot of inspiration from a friend from this chapter who wishes to remain anonymous, so to my muse I extend a large THANK YOU 3

Arielle's search for Jon came up blank. She had searched the entirety of the keep that she knew of and yet she still hadn't found him. Whilst she was worried, she managed to push it to the back of her mind. Jon was capable, and she was fussing like he was a 5-year-old boy. It was getting close to the time to return to Queen Cersei's chamber, and life in Winterfell was being directed towards the grand hall where the feast would be. All the servants were carting massive trays and crates of food through the hall Arielle noted. There were fruits, vegetables, meats and fish of all sorts of varieties. Her mouth watered at the thought. As she drew closer to the front doors of the hall, she was able to see Maester Luwin standing in the centre like a conductor, directing the throngs of frantic people to their allocated workstations. Several women were lighting torches throughout the hall and candles on each table. At the head of the hall there was a long, ornamental table behind which there were two large engraved wooden thrones, which normally belonged to Lord and Lady Stark. Tonight however, they would belong to the King and Queen. The ceiling was adorned with the usual chandelier consisting of horns and antlers, however this time there were also garlands of flowers and leaves giving the room an earthy vibe. No expense was being spared.

Arielle's concentration on the room before her was broken when she was knocked by large men hauling barrels of what she could only assume was ale or wine… Dornish by the looks of the markings on the side. Whilst she could read some English, Arielle wasn't highly educated and other languages and scripts were lost on her but she recognised the curly bits on the end of the Dornish lettering. Arielle continued on towards the Queen's quarters in the eastern tower, her apprehension ever growing as she drew closer. Her chest heaved with a large heavy breath as she walked down the hallway, apprehension turning into nerves which turned into panic. She took a steadying breath and walked into the corridor where the Queen's chamber was located. Upon entry, she saw two guard stationed outside, wearing full armour, and almost turned around and cowered away if not for the fact that she HAD to fulfill her duties. She steadied herself and continued forwards, until reaching the guards.

Arielle coughed once, drawing their attention and both men placed their hands on the hilt of their swords, glaring at her fiercely. "I'm the Queen's handmaiden, she requested my presence before the feast." Arielle spoke nervously and prayed the tremor in her voice was not as prevalent as she thought it sounded to her. The guards looked her up and down and nodded, the taller of the two smirking. "We'll need to do a search of your person." He smirked at her, and dropped his hand from his hilt, the smaller guard however looked apprehensive. He seemed to nudge the larger one who scowled at him. "Alert the Queen that she has a visitor. I'll do the search." ' _Like Hell you will!_ ' thought Arielle angrily and steeling her defences, despite her puny frame. She keept her outward composure steady as the stout guard tugged on the larger one's sleeve.

"But Ser Jaime is in there too." Stouty hissed.

"Do I look like a care!? Alert her!"

The guards appear to bicker under their breaths attempting to be quiet until the door swung open of its own accord, revealing Ser Jaime, the golden boy himself. Arielle stifled yet another grimace as she jumped in surprise. She could cope with one Lannister but two? She was tempted to turn and run where she was standing. "Is there a problem gentlemen or are you deliberately impeding the progress of my sister's handmaiden?" The guard snapped to attention and almost shit their pants with fear Arielle noted. It would seem she was not the only one who was terrified of the Lannisters. "No Ser Jaime, we were just going to alert you." Responded the Larger one, a drop of sweat trickling down his brow. Arielle smirked inwardly at his discomfort. It served the perverted prick right for being such a letch. "Come, my dear," Ser Jaime extended a hand outwards towards her, which she took tentatively with a slight curtsy. Whilst she did not like the Lannister heir she was still going to behave as was expected of her when he was around. "Thank you my lord." She simpered. Acting like all the other girls in the entirety of Westeros. Ser Jaime smiled and led her into the room, slamming shut the door behind her.

He had not yet let go of her hand and she hoped that he had not noticed that her hands were getting very sweaty. If he did, he made no move to say anything. "Ah! Arielle. I must apologise for my guards." It was the Queen. She was seated on a chaise that had not been there this morning, so Arielle surmised it must be there of the Queen's own doing. She appeared to be drinking wine from a gold or silver goblet and picking grapes from the vine in a lavish bowl next to her. The light colours of the chaise and adornments contrasted greatly to the grim and grey surroundings of Winterfell, making Arielle wonder about life in the capital briefly. The thought was shaken out of her head when the Queen continued. "I must have them both beheaded." She threw out offhandedly which caught Arielle by surprise. She blanched and felt the colour drain from her complexion leaving her a sickly white colour- she could only assume of course. Outwardly she must have looked fine because the Queen continued. "Now, I have bathed myself" Cersei cast a sly glance at her brother at this, because she had most definitely _not_ bathed herself, but her brother had. "But I now need you to do my hair and help me dress. I can't go down to the meal in my dressing gown now can I?" Queen Cersei laughed at her own little joke- if you could call it that. And you could hardly call what she was wearing a "dressing gown", it was more lavish than something Arielle could have seen in her entire lifetime- and she thought her own gown was over the top.

"Yes your Grace." She found herself nodding with a bowed head and moving forwards, almost of her own accord. She felt like an observer in her own body as she did. "And where would you like me to begin, Your Grace? Your hairbrush?" Arielle spoke eloquently and diligently, as though it were for the purpose of saving her life… which ironically in a sense it was. Cersei nodded and threw a general hum of agreement in her direction, for she was too busy focusing on her brother removing his shoulder plates and watching the muscles in his jaw clench. It made her squirm inside to see the Queen stare perversely at her brother like that.

Arielle began the process of very gently brushing the Queen's hair, being gentle and soft, hardly feeling a single knot. ' _It was a wonder what money could do for one's appearance'_ mused Arielle silently. She knew, after all, that the Queen would have acquired all sorts of mysterious foreign oils to lather onto her hair. She held a tad more resentment for her after that; feeling a pang of jealousy in her chest. After having brushed her hair sufficiently, Arielle began the process of braiding the Queen's hair into an intricate and expertly done half up, half down hairdo, interweaving the strands of gold that would sit beneath the serpent's crown. She was used to doing this for Arya and Sansa, both of whom had been her test subjects. Arielle was peaceful and almost forgot where she was and what she was doing as she relaxed and threaded the strands of gold between each other. That was, until she looked up and locked eyes with Jaime Lannister, who had been staring at her intently. This was never a good sign. She smiled at him lightly, a polite gesture, which he returned but his eyes remained firm with unspoken words behind them. It wasn't quite a look of confusion, but a look of intrigue that sat behind his steely grey eyes. Arielle dropped her eyes once again. _'Shit'_ she thought ' _Cersei and Jaime both appear to have some form of interest in me. Why me?! I'm just a bloody handmaiden?! I don't do anything!_ ' Her cheeks flushed deeply as she finished pushing the pins into place in the Queen's hair.

"Would you like flowers woven into the braids your grace? It would give a natural perfume and enhance your beauty." She found herself suggesting, and almost clamped a hand over her mouth for her stupidity. Of course the Queen wouldn't want- "Yes. That sounds acceptable." Oh. Arielle reached for the mahogany table at the side of her and picked up the lavender and wildflower garland hanging on the mirror. She hated to admit but the queen _did_ look stunning with the flowers interwoven in her braids. She was a beautiful woman, and Arielle held some form of resentment for her in that respect. How could someone so _twisted_ be so beautiful? As Arielle had finished, she quietly notified the Queen as such as she turned to look in the mirror at her creation. Cersei's lips twitched into a smile before she caught herself. "Yes. That will do." She shirked off her handmaiden. In actuality she was in awe of how carefully the child had braided her hair; she had almost not felt her do it. The Queen stood and was about to shed her robe until she realised that both Jaime _and_ her handmaiden were still in the room, and one of them would have to go if the rumours were to be avoided. "Brother, would you mind…?" The queen trailed off silently and Arielle blushed furiously in understanding. She was to see the most powerful woman in all the land _naked._

Ser Jaime nodded wordlessly and stepped out of the room, all but slamming the door behind him. Arielle would have wondered why he was so tense if she did not know about the feelings he held for his sister. Arielle understood that _he_ wanted to be the one to undress and dress the queen, not her handmaiden, which furthermore made her uncomfortable. It wasn't that she was a prude, it was just… well… okay she was a prude. The only people Arielle had seen naked in her entire life thus far had been Lady Cat, Sansa and Arya, and that was when she was bathing them and they were submerged in water. She couldn't even contemplate remotely what a man looked like naked, for she had never seen one- only pictures in books and crude child's drawings around the keep. Of course she had seen men shirtless- living with Jon, Robb and Theon that was almost unavoidable, but anything below the waist was left to her imagination and she would rather it stayed that way. It wasn't right or proper. She would wait until she was married for that. She could imagine that the Queen would look slightly different than what she had seen on two undeveloped children and a mature older woman. Arielle took a steadying breath. She could do this; how hard could it be?

Arielle looked up at the Queen and smiled gently. The Queen simply smirked back. "Nervous child?" Arielle nodded silently.

"I won't lie to you, your Grace, I am a little nervous. I only aim to please though." Arielle nearly died at the unintentional innuendo that she had said. She was inwardly cursing herself. "Oh?" Questioned the Queen, and turned to face her with a smirk and eyebrow raised.

"Oh your Grace… No… I… I didn't mean…." Arielle's blush flamed more so and spread to the tips of the ears and her neck. The Queen tipped back her head and laughed. It should have been a sweet and happy sound but it wasn't. It sounded like a merciless cackle at her expense. "Watch yourself little one, if my husband heard you talking like that..." She finished with a malicious grin, and dropped her robe to the ground around her, walking to stand in front of the mirror. Arielle sucked in a sharp breath with shock, the previous blush disappearing and being replaced by an icy whiteness. The Queen's body was… beautiful. Her supple skin coated the curves of her hips and her breasts like silk, and her hair rained down her back in a golden curtain. Her nipples and breasts were pert which surprised Arielle on a woman her age. Having had three children, she expected them to droop a little more like Lady Catelyn's. As her gaze moved south, she noticed a small bush covering the Queen's lower lips. Her gaze moved swiftly onward to the curve of her bottom and her hips, not too wide yet larger than her own narrow frame. Whilst she had found the Queen beautiful before, _this_ was something else. The Queen was a Goddess in disguise, albeit the Goddess of the seven hells, but a Goddess all the same. Arielle's jealousy flared. It wasn't fair how someone so disgusting morally could be so stunning physically. She looked away quickly, starting to feel bile raising up her throat. The jealousy was burning her and wreaking havoc on her own insecurities.

She allowed the Queen to place her undergarments on, giving her time to prepare them and smooth them out before Arielle wrapped her corset around her waist. Whilst she didn't necessarily need it, it made the Queen's waist look cinched. If that was her will, that was her will. "Um… Your Grace… If you could possibly brace yourself?" Arielle didn't know how else to ask. She was puny physically and could barely lift a crate of apples, but a corset was a different thing entirely. Arielle had once tried to carry Robb's sword to him and it had dragged along the ground because she couldn't lift it. The Queen huffed with irritation as Arielle tugged harshly on the lace of the corset, silently satisfied when she heard the Queen gasp at its tightness. Malicious? Maybe, but then again this was the same woman who was cheating on her husband with her brother and who had laughed at her expense.

Meanwhile, Cersei was inwardly scowling, whilst maintaining a steely composure. This girl was a little rat, never mind sparrow. Cersei could tell from the furrowed brow on the girl's features that she was enjoying the discomfort she was enduring in putting on this corset. She was half tempted to stick a dagger in her gut there and then and be done with it, but knew she couldn't for fear of pissing off her guard dogs: The Stark boys. Her spy had reported back and told her of the close relationship she had with the eldest Stark, which intrigued her. The spy had said that it was almost familial, so she had ruled out that one as her handmaiden's lover but people would do crazy things for family... She would know. Needless to say it would still be a crushing blow to the Starks when she took Arielle with her back to King's Landing.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: So here it is! The big feast! I had a lot of plans for this chapter and imagined it going so many ways. Anyway, here we go! Thank you to anyone who reviewed, I honestly appreciate it so much and it brightens my day just that little bit more that I've had such an overwhelmingly positive response. This chapter is slightly AU as Jon doesn't attend the feast but in this one he does!**

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' _This is it'_ thought Arielle nervously, as she stared in the mirror. She had left the Queen's quarters as quickly as she could, nearly in tears from nerves and anxiety. She had almost slammed the door shut behind her and tumbled down the corridor at an incredible pace she didn't know was possible. She had only half an hour to get ready for the feast, but that would be more than enough time. She had already bathed this morning. Her nerves were getting the better of her she noted, as her hands were beginning to tremble. She was sure that all colour had drained from her face. Being around the Queen felt like she was being suffocated and that the air was getting very thin; she felt like she was being starved of oxygen and her lungs burned for fresh air. Her escape was the only thing, she was sure, that kept her from suffocating in that very moment. The Queen had looked a vision when Arielle was through with her, and had commanded her to ready herself.

When she had returned to her room, Arielle had changed from her violet gown to her blue one, which highlighted the colour of her eyes rather nicely but it was a subdued colour, a deep and inconspicuous one. It was less lavish than the lilac dress, but this was the time for the Queen and King, and she wanted to do anything but stand out for fear of attracting attention from any other Lannisters that may have been lurking in the nooks and crannies of Winterfell Keep. She seemed to attract them like flies to rotting food. Her reflection grimaced back at her, hair half tied back in a simple braid that trailed down her back. She figured that she would be plain and simple tonight so as to hide away from everyone, keeping to the edges of the room.

Arielle took a deep breath as she left the room, heading down to the feast with 5 minutes to spare. She noted that the people on the lower tables were already taking their seats and murmuring with anticipation, so she searched for Jon so that she would know where to sit. She usually sat with Jon at grand meals, away from the head table because neither of them held the status to sit there with their family, despite the family wanting them to. Her eyes dully scanned the room, slightly hooded from exhaustion. She spied Maester Luwin at the top of the second table and smiled at the old man, who returned it brightly. She had always liked the Maester as he had been the one who taught her to read the basics of English. He had been patient with her, teaching her alongside Sansa who had grasped the topic a lot easier than her, which was humiliating considering Sansa was four years her junior.

Scanning her eyes further round the room, she spotted where Jon and herself would be sitting at the bottom of the second table. Jon's seat however was empty but her own would soon be filled. Arielle walked slowly to her seat, gazing around the room in awe. The servants really had done a very good job. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her large toe as she kicked a flagstone that suck up from the others. She nearly cried out in pain if not for the fact that she clapped a hand over her mouth and sharply exhaled instead, hopping around like a maniac. A stream of swear words was trailing through her head, as she noticed some people smiling sympathetically at her, and some struggling to stifle laughter. She tried to smile at them but was almost positive it came across like she was grimacing. Good, let them think she was pissed off! Rude people snickering at her, it wasn't her fault! She had to admit though, her clumsiness was going to get her killed some day. She would probably walk straight off a cliff because she wasn't looking where she was going or there was a pretty bird or something like that. She hopped to the table and plonked herself down on the seat with a loud 'thud' which only furthered her embarrassment. Arielle nursed her sore foot with her hand and sore ego with a goblet of ale, the bitter liquid sliding down her throat. She had never liked the taste but now more than ever it seemed harder to swallow. It was probably that Dornish stuff.

"So you made quite the entrance?" A hoarse yet charming voice whispered in her ear from the right. Arielle gasped in surprise, causing her to choke on her ale and the voice to raucously laugh its arse off behind her. Her sputtering and hacking was ceased when the hand that belonged to the voice rubbed her back gently, aiding her recovery.

"No need to give me a heart attack Jon Snow!" She cried, causing Jon's laughter to continue. "I've been looking for you all afternoon but only found Robb and the Lannisters! Where were you?" Arielle continued, twisting in her seat to face him. He smiled; she noted the crinkles in the corners of his eyes and how they deepened when he did.

"Uncle Benjen." He said simply. Arielle gasped in surprise and delight. Jon's Uncle, Benjen Stark was a dear friend to her, and whenever he visited she would spend time listening to his tales of beyond the great white wall. He both terrified her and left her in awe. The man was a living legend.

"He's here?!" She questioned eagerly, gripping Jon's arm like a vice; as tight as she could. Jon almost laughed at her puny grip. She truly was weak.

"Yes. He won't be attending the feast but he's here for the night." Arielle smiled even wider. Jon, however, did not. There was something sad lingering behind his brown eyes, which made Arielle nervous.

"…Jon?" She simply said, her grip loosening as a sense of dread filled her stomach. The look in his eyes wasn't sad or happy she had decided. It was apprehension and grief.

"He's taking me with him to join the Night's Watch when father goes to King's Landing tomorrow." Jon looked at the floor, unable to face her. He would miss her dreadfully when he went, and almost wished he could bring her with him, but it was impossible. Arielle opened her mouth to reply when the hall went silent. Whilst the pair had been talking, everyone had taken their seats and the King had entered the room in procession with his family and with his wife. The entirety of the hall rose and waited for the King to take his seat before taking theirs once more, but Arielle was unable to focus. Jon would be leaving her. He would be going off to only God knows where, facing dangers of all sorts beyond the wall, possibly _dying_ and she would know none the wiser. She felt like this was a repeat of what happened with her brother when he came of age, and the room started to spin. Instead of being filled with the smells and sounds of the ongoing feast- that Arielle had not even noticed had started- it was filled with horror and dread. She knew of Jon's plan to join the Night's Watch already, but so soon? The prospect of him dying young filled her with dread.

She hadn't noticed Jon had been shaking her lightly, but when she snapped out of her stupor she didn't know what to say. Her voice was choked up and her eyes filling with tears but she willed them not to spill over. "Arielle? Say something please." Jon spoke, close to her ear. He had an imploring yet concerned look on his face yet all Arielle could think of was how he would be leaving her. An inexplicable anger overtook her, or rather a deep and profound sadness or frustration.

"Congratulations Jon. It's everything you've ever wanted." She found herself speaking icily, throat thick. She knew she had no right to be angry with him, but he was leaving her, just like the rest of them. Jon didn't speak to her after that, because he knew not what to say. She had already known of his intentions to join the Night's Watch; she had known since he was a boy! So why was she acting like this. The woman baffled him, and she baffled herself at times too. Jon felt a twinge of resentment at her icy tone, and turned to continue his meal in peace. Meanwhile, a sinking feeling had settled in Arielle's stomach, and her once delicious looking food now seemed unappetising. She was angry that Jon could leave her at such a short moment's notice, especially seeing as how they were in the middle of a time of political strife which was causing personal strife. She believed that Jon and her were friends forever, or at least very close forever, but now it felt like yet again someone was leaving her. Was she that unlikeable? The moment of insecurity and self-doubt left her feeling hollow and empty, as though she was missing something but didn't know what.

Little did the pair know, their exchange was being watched carefully by a certain fair-haired beauty. Queen Cersei noted with interest her handmaiden's sudden change in affection towards the Stark bastard. From being outright and overly flirtatious she had turned to stone, prompting the Queen to wonder why. Her handmaiden was an interesting little thing and whilst a lion did not normally concern themselves with the actions of mice, this mouse was out of the ordinary. For one, it perplexed Cersei that one day she had just appeared at Winterfell out of nowhere, a sudden appearance in the middle of the night. For another, it confused her greatly as to why the Starks held her in such high esteem. From what she had experienced the handmaiden- Arielle- seemed perfectly bland and ordinary, if a little timid. She was determined to find out why everyone was seemingly so enamoured with her. Even her little brother, the imp, seemed to have some form of affection towards her, and he only had affection towards himself and his whores. She was perplexing to say the least and Cersei did not like things she could not understand.

Once the feasting was over, the tables were cleared and removed from the room, leaving space for a dancefloor. Several musicians moved into place with drums, lutes and cornamuse playing a hearty tune to bring up the spirits of everyone in the hall. Whilst people's spirits were already high due to the ale and wine in their systems, this upped the ante. Even the Queen was smiling slightly and tapping her foot, gazing amusedly round the room whilst laughing with Ser Jaime. All of it, however, was lost on Arielle. Her mood had been crushed by the sudden news of Jon's departure, weighing on her chest like a brick. It had stapled her to her seat in the corner of the room, leaving her smiling at anyone who made eye contact for a brief moment, before the expression dropped from her face. The bags under her eyes felt heavy, and her tiredness was starting to catch up with her. This day had been too much. She did not notice a shadow fall upon her until she looked up into a pair of very blue eyes.

"You. You're my mother's handmaiden. Fetch me some wine." Yet another Lannister looked back at her, but this one was a spoiled little brat. She stood quickly and curtsied somewhat clumsily.

"Yes, your Grace." She spoke diligently and scampered off to the cask to fetch some wine for Prince Joffrey. She weaved through the throngs of dancers, being extra careful to dodge women's dresses and cloaks. To some extent, she was successful because nobody's dress whom she trod on was _too_ wealthy. She fetched a goblet off a table and filled it half with wine, as she did not want to spill any on the journey back. She once again weaved in and out of the crowds, this time slightly more successfully until she made it back to where the Prince was standing, now with his sister, Myrcella. As she was nearing, her food had trodden on her skirt.

Before she knew it she was flying forwards, goblet still in hand until her chest hit the floor with a thud. The purple liquid had gone flying and the hall had drawn silent. Everyone had turned to look at the source of the noise. Arielle's head bounced off the floor with a sharp crack, and spots danced across her vision. Her knee had hit the floor at a painful angle and was sending spasms through her right leg, causing her to cry out sharply in pain. It was a horrible sensation to feel like your life had ended whilst you were still living it. Mortification was an understatement to what Arielle was feeling. She groaned once and pushed herself up onto all fours, ignoring the scrapes on her hands. Blood was trickling gently down her forehead into a little red puddle on the floor. She lifted her injured head to look at the sight before her. Both Prince Joffrey and Princess Myrcella stood still like ice sculptures frozen in horror. Their mouths were hanging open in shock. Each royal baby was speckled or soaked with the deep purple wine, making it look as though they'd been stabbed. The liquid was dripping onto the floor, but nobody moved. Arielle paled in horror, tears welling up in her eyes as she opened her mouth to apologise before- _SMACK!_

Arielle recoiled in horror and fell back onto the floor. Before she had even realised what was happening, Prince Joffrey had backhanded her across the face. He just so happened to be wearing a large bejewelled ring also, which left a large gash across the left hand side of her face; the side which had already been struck by the floor. Arielle once again saw stars, and recoiled onto her back, using her elbows to scramble backwards as Joffrey started towards her once again. Arielle raised her hands in self-defence, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. Blood had started to trickle into her eye and was blurring her vision and stinging severely.

"You little shit!" The Prince raised his hand as if to strike another time when the Queen spoke up.

"Joffrey. Enough."

"B-But Moth-" Silently and calmly, the Queen raised a hand, silencing her son. Arielle however was still cowering on the floor in fear, the blood from her head creating patches on her blue dress. She had never been more grateful to see The Queen in her whole life. Cersei held a hand out to Arielle, who took it tentatively. "My, my, little bird. How you do get yourself into trouble." The Queen took a rag from a nearby Lord and dabbed Arielle's face with it, slightly stilling the blood flow and cleaning Arielle's left cheek. It stung greatly but the pain almost didn't register to her through the fear. _Almost._ "Of course a punishment will be required but first let's get you cleaned up." Arielle's blood stilled as the Queen took her under her arm and escorted her through the crowds. People parted like the red sea. Giving her a view of the concerned faces of the Stark family, and the outright terrified face of Jon, who had pushed his way to the front. Maester Luwin and the healer trailed dutifully behind the pair, who trailed onwards to the medical room.

The healing process had been long and painful for Arielle much to the delight of Cersei. The scars she would have would mottle the girl's beauty for life, a pleasant thought in the Queen's eyes. As for the girl's punishment, Cersei had decided to take the girl to King's Landing for definite, and keep her there as not a handmaiden but a servant, slave no less, as her punishment. She would break the girl, break her spirit and sit in her pit of vindictive satisfaction once more. She had made this known to Arielle who mutely nodded, devoid of any emotion or outwards expression. She was too exhausted or numb to be anything other than dead to the world. When wounds had been sewn shut, Arielle timidly made her way back to her room, dropped down onto the floor and cried.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you so much, I have been overwhelmed by the amount of love for this story and I just want to give a shout out to a very special reviewer: BloodyBlondeVamp, who is not only my most frequent reviewer but gives a lot of insight into their views on the story! I'm not sure what I think about this chapter, I may re-do it at a later date because it feels very messy to me, let me know what you guys think, yeah? SO WITH THAT…. LET THE DRAMA BEGIN.**

Arielle was lying facing away from the door, her head throbbing and tears dripping slowly onto the blanket covering her bed. She was unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even think. She was stuck in a state of perpetual numbness but to her, it was easier than feeling at the moment. In the morning, she would be departing Winterfell forever, departing her _home._ She might never see Robb, Bran, Rickon, Lady Catelyn or any of her friends ever again. She had been told that Lady Sansa and Arya were to accompany their father to King's Landing which was a small mercy. But she was to be a servant, not even a handmaiden. A servant to the Prince no less, who already hated her. She wouldn't be surprised if she died within the week. Arielle was lost in her thoughts, ones of self-loathing and regret. If she hadn't been so tired or so damn clumsy none of this would have happened. She had received a message earlier which she had taken blankly in a stupor, notifying her that her punishment was to walk the entire journey to King's Landing with her hands bound behind the horse of the King. If the journey didn't kill her then the amount of shit she would step in certainly would. She would probably catch some disease of some sort and die. Then again, that would be better than living life as the Prince's servant.

Whilst pondering her fate, the door of her room swung open with a crash, causing Arielle to flinch but not move otherwise. She knew who it would be. It would be one of Joffrey's bloody guards here to punish her further 'off the record'. She raised herself into a seating position and closed her eyes tightly as the room spun before her. Her injury had left her seeing stars and was no doubt swollen to the size of an egg by now. Arielle grimaced at the thought, but pushed onwards through her vertigo until she was standing, which of course left her even more unstable. She turned to face the source of the interruption, only to find out it was not at all what she had expected. Standing in the doorway of her bedroom, clad in the same clothes she had dressed him in this morning was Jon. He had a face like thunder and was squared up, angrier than Arielle had ever seen him before. With a sigh, Arielle took a step towards him. "Jon-" She began.

"Don't." he cut her off, shutting the door behind him. "How the hell could you be so stupid!?" He cried once the door was securely shut. Arielle recoiled in horror… this was not the conversation she was expecting from Jon. She was expecting sympathy, comfort, a friend. She wasn't expecting… this? "Are you out of your Goddamn mind?! Your bloody clumsiness couldn't have just taken a trip away for one night? You're a bloody useless handmaiden if you can't even walk straight, because you spilled wine on the bloody Prince of all people! You're a nightmare! No wonder your bloody father left you in the middle of the forest!" Jon was shouting at her but then stopped as soon as he realised what he had said. His mouth gaped as he floundered for something to say, the anger driven from his expression replaced with regret. "Arielle… I-"

"Don't." Spoke Arielle softly, repeating his actions from earlier. Tears were cascading down her cheeks in waterfalls, her heart was pounding painfully in her chest to match the throbbing in her head. And here she had thought that she couldn't possibly feel any worse. Jon opened his mouth to say something else but Arielle cut him off before he could speak. "Don't even bother Jon." Her self-pity was replaced by a new form of anger now, a defiance she only wished she could have when confronted by the Prince. "Do you really want to know how today went down?" She spat at him. "Today, I was not only forced to confront two Lannisters, but four. One of them was passed out drunk, the other was eye fucking his sister who I had to prepare for the feast tonight and the other slapped me across the face leaving me this!" Arielle pointed aggressively to the left hand side of her face which was coated in tears and blood. "And I'll tell you what Jon Snow, I've worked bloody hard today, I've done my job bloody well despite the challenges I've had thrown at me. But because I was exhausted for one bloody night and spilled wine on someone, and because it just so happened to be that one bloody little cunt of a Prince, I'm being shipped off to King's Landing at first light with your father! I'm going to walk behind the King's horse the entire way, stepping in shit and being stepped _on_ by shit. And then there's you. My supposed friend who has the _audacity_ to then come to my chambers and lecture me on being clumsy?! The very same friend who's abandoning me in the morning?! Fucking great day, I'm having."

Arielle's energy was spent as she stood facing Jon Snow. She had taken several steps forwards during her rant, until her nose was level with his chin, and she was just under a metre away. Her nostrils were flaring with anger and her face had flushed to an angry shade of scarlet that Jon had never seen on her before. Her once beautiful hair was matted with sweat, blood and tears, all of which were still cascading down her cheeks. Jon stood there aghast, feeling horror for his outburst at her, but more so for the news that she had just dropped on him like a cannonball. He felt guilt settle in his stomach as he stared at the woman, a horrible feeling causing him to feel smaller than a mouse. Outside the door he barely heard Ghost whining at the conflict.

"Arielle… You…. You can't go to King's Landing." Was all Jon could say. What he was really trying to say was that she couldn't be too far away from him; he didn't _want_ her that far away from him, but he couldn't force the words out of his mouth.

"Well I have no choice in the matter Jon. I leave at first light." She sounded exhausted, her shouting match with Jon draining the last of her resources so she plonked herself down onto the stiff mattress of the bed. Jon moved warily to her and gently sat down next to her, as though trying not to wake someone up. She smiled wryly. "I forgive you by the way. I'm sad that you're going still, but I forgive your outburst." Jon sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry." He chuckled stiffly. It was a bitter sound, one that was angry. He didn't want Arielle to have to suffer through that, he should be around to protect her, always. That was just what he did. He did it with his sisters, he did it with his older brother, and he would do it with her too. He felt like he had failed, like he had let both her and his father down. If he couldn't protect Arielle from herself, and he was leaving tomorrow, what did that say about his capabilities in the Night's Watch? If he couldn't protect a simple clumsy girl, how could he protect his future brothers? Jon sighed in contemplation and the two sat in silence. Neither knew what to say next and neither wanted to be the first one to break the awkward silence. Jon sighed again and stood up as though to leave. Arielle caught his sleeve as he stood and started towards the door. Her eyes had filled with tears once more and the look on her face was heart breaking for Jon to see as he turned back.

"Don't go. Jon please… I don't want to be alone right now." Arielle looked away from him as she spoke her final words in a small voice, her gaze drifting to the floor. She didn't want to be left to her thoughts and didn't want to remember Jon this way if she was never to see him again. Jon's eyes softened as he sat back down next to his friend. His stomach churned with something unrecognisable at seeing her injured and hurt. His stomach twisted with butterflies and eyes pricked and stung with tears threatening to form but he caught himself before they could. He was supposed to be strong Goddamnit. Men didn't cry! A man of the Night's Watch would NOT be caught crying over a girl!

He noticed Arielle's small frame had started to shake and her head was bowed towards the floor. He certainly wasn't crying but Arielle was. The events of the night had taken their toll on the girl and she could hold back the river no more. The slow little jerks of her shoulders turned into louder sobbing, so Jon did the only thing he could think of: He bundled her small frame into his arms and onto his lap. He enveloped the girl in his arms and rubbed her back gently, letting her cry it out. Whilst it was a shock for Arielle to be held in this way, she would not complain. She tilted her head onto Jon's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist sobbing loudly. The furs he was wearing muffled the sounds of her voice and wiped the tears simultaneously. Whilst the two would be in trouble if found in such an improper position, that was the least of Arielle's concerns right now. She was crying for everything that had happened that day, and soon enough she was crying for reasons she couldn't fathom. It the stress and anxiety that had built up, she guessed. When there was nothing left for her to cry, she simply sat on Jon's knee feeling his hand stroking up and down her back in slow, rhythmic movements. Her mind had gone blank and she was just enjoying the contact she had with Jon. Her stomach was filled with butterflies that seemed to do summersaults when Jon lightly kissed the top of her head, still rocking her from side to side like a child.

Jon meanwhile, had not even realised what he was doing. His actions had become background music to the thoughts in his head. He was attempting to formulate an idea to free Arielle from her punishment but his mind was coming up blank. He couldn't appeal to the Queen, for she would not allow an audience with a bastard; and asking his father to step in would only cause political strain on their relationship with the Baratheons. The only way Arielle could possibly get out of this situation was if she completely vanished from existence. It was as though a light had switched on in Jon's head. He put Arielle back on the bed and jumped up excitedly, an elated grin on his face. Arielle had whined in discontent when Jon had unceremoniously ejected her from his lap, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I have an idea!" crowed Jon, standing opposite Arielle. The girl simply cocked her head to the right looking like a confused puppy. In this moment, Arielle reminded him very much of Ghost. "What if you disappeared?!" Jon threw out. This made Arielle even more confused, and seeing this, Jon continued. "That was badly put. Okay, so in the morning when the party are to leave for King's Landing, what if you didn't exist? What if Arielle Sixsmith was missing? Meanwhile, the two men heading for the Night's Watch became three, because a servant boy from the farms outside of Winterfell wished to come with them?"

"Jon, I don't understand. What are you suggesting?"

"What I'm suggesting, Arielle, is that you cut your hair, bind your chest and dress as a boy for tomorrow, ride north with me to Castle Black and join the Night's Watch and that way nobody will be able to find you when the time comes to leave for King's Landing!" Jon spelled it out for her elaborately, and whilst the plan would probably work, there was just one problem.

"But Jon… I'm puny! I can't fight! I can barely lift a sword, and I don't even _want_ to join the Night's watch!" Arielle cried, slumping in defeat. Jon paused at this, she was right, but it was either die in the north or die in the south, and Jon knew which he could protect her from best.

"Arielle, please. I can help you, train you, we can work together to get you fit! In the north I can protect you but in the south you're all alone. I can't be there to help you if something goes wrong. Please. I know you don't want to be a member of the Night's Watch but you're better off by my side, and not where I can't reach you." Jon got down on both knees in front of her, taking her hands gently and staring into her eyes intently. Arielle weighed it up in her head. Jon was right, he could protect her better in Castle Black, and she could maybe even help him too. In the south she would be completely isolated, and would probably die quicker than if she was beyond the wall with Jon. The Prince had a vendetta against her, so at least she couldn't be found in Castle Black, she would be safe. She wouldn't even exist anymore. She would be a farm boy. Arielle hesitated a moment, rubbing her thumbs against Jon's calloused hands. "Alright." She spoke with conviction. "What first?"

"First, your hair."


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter is a little bit cheeky in places, which I hope people don't mind. It is Game of Thrones after all! It's suddenly occurred to me also that I have forgotten to write about Bran being pushed from the tower which, for the sake of this story and going back and having to re-write things, has already happened and is underway. I will go back and edit previous chapters don't worry, to fit it into the story, but it** _ **has**_ **happened already rest assured. It happened this evening, just before Arielle went to the Queen's chambers to help her get ready before the feast, and when Arielle found Tyrion passed out in the barn. Bear in mind however, that Arielle, based on where she was, may not know about everything that had gone on because she's been so busy okay? I'll go back and edit things as I go along so don't worry people!**

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Arielle bristled. "What about my hair?!" She cried.

"Well you can't very well go around the Night's Watch with hair as long and as beautiful as a princess now can you?! We're going to have to cut it." Whilst he was speaking, Jon had dragged a chair into the centre of the room, similar to the setup that Arielle had used on him earlier when shaving him. A sensation of dread and self-loathing had re-acquainted itself with Arielle's stomach. Her hair was one of her little vanities. She loved her hair, and took great care with it. Subconsciously, she had brought a lock from down her back and was twirling it sadly in her fingers. Jon, who had been standing ready in the centre of the room knife in hand, sighed. "Elle. Listen. You're going to have to make some sacrifices. I understand, it's hard. But it's either do this or go to King's Landing. I want you with me Elle." Arielle softened slightly but her stance on things didn't change. Whilst she loved hearing that Jon wanted her with him, she also had clung to her hair throughout her whole life since she had arrived at Winterfell. Without it she would look like a skinny boy, which she supposed was the point but it still hurt to sacrifice it. She supposed she was secretly concerned that once Jon saw her with shorter hair that maybe he wouldn't want to be close with her anymore. Maybe the only reason he was friends with her was because she appeared pretty because of her hair.

"But… Jon… I… Without it I'll look like some kind of little boy! Nobody is going to want to be with me if I ever leave the Night's Watch because I'll look like some kind of skinny bloke!" Arielle bit out, sounding like a petulant little tart. She winced at her tone and realised how she sounded shortly after she'd finished.

"Arielle nobody will think that. You're beautiful. Now come on." Jon blushed slightly once he realised what he had said, but Arielle was blushing horrifically too. The only way she could come back from this situation without being embarrassed is to make Jon even more embarrassed.

"You think I'm beautiful?" Teased Arielle, causing Jon's blush to flare much to her satisfaction.

"Yes, now get over here, we need to hurry if you're to look like a boy!" Jon spoke brusquely and harshly, so Arielle walked hesitantly over to the chair and stiffly sat down; the moment of truth was approaching. Jon took the rusty knife in hand and stood behind her chair. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before wetting her locks with a bowl of water and hacking at them. Arielle was in tears once more, mourning the loss of her hair. Jon hacked and hacked for what seemed like forever, at times coming close to her head which made Arielle wince. Just how much was he taking off? She noticed he left it longer closer to the front of her head, probably so she could hide more of her face. Meanwhile she was feeling a significant draft at the back of her head, and suddenly she didn't weigh as much. It was a curious feeling but at the same time a horrible one. Arielle felt so superficial and so ugly at the same time and it was tying her stomach in knots. After some time, Jon had neatened up the edges and trimmed away all the remaining long hair. Arielle's tears had stopped some time ago, leaving her apprehensive and downright scared.

"Okay. It's done. It's… actually not that bad. It suits you." Jon smiled at her as he stood in front of the chair. Butterflies were tickling her insides at his smile but the apprehension she was feeling unfortunately crushed that feeling before long. Arielle stood, and turned to face the mirror, eyes currently closed. She was almost afraid to open them for fear of what she might find. She felt Jon walk up behind her, sensing the heat of his body in the otherwise freezing room. She noted she was colder without hair, and had started to shiver slightly. Jon carefully put his hands on her tiny shoulders, being careful not to startle her in her already anxious state. She couldn't help but lean into his hands slightly, almost forgetting where she was. Jon gripped her shoulders a little tighter, as though signalling her to open her eyes. She took the hint and inhaled deeply; it was time to face the harsh truth. Arielle's blue eyes fluttered open slowly, her vision adjusting to the light.

What she saw before her was a surprise to say the least. Her once long and thin hair was now no longer than her earlobes all over, with a long shaggy fringe tickling her brows. She noted that her ears and cheeks were slightly hidden by the longer bits at the front. She wasn't sure if it was tactical or not to cover her wounds but it made her features look sharper and less feminine. She did look a little more like a boy. Arielle brought a hand tentatively to feel the back of her head. The once beautiful tresses that cascaded down her back had disappeared, and instead she was left with hair shorter than Jon's own hair. It was only an inch in length at most at the back, and appeared darker than her previously lighter brown hair. She knew, however, that it was because it was slightly wet still. She still had a touch of femininity about her in the rows of thick lashes but it wasn't like she could cut those off too. It was definitely not as bad as she had been expecting. She could feel Jon's eyes boring into her reflection, so she met his gaze in the mirror. "Well?" He asked hesitantly.

"It's… not… bad. I was expecting a lot worse." She spoke hesitantly, and felt Jon sigh with relief behind her. "I look more… masculine now. I think my face looks less round and babyish. Everything looks sharper… my head is cold though." She giggled at the end slightly as Jon brought his hand to the back of her head and ruffled her locks slightly. He had to admit that she was beautiful with short hair too. She looked like a pixie or a fae... albeit a male one.

"It'll feel that way for a while, you'll get used to it though. Now, the next thing is that you definitely need to change is your clothing. You can't go to the Night's Watch in a dress. You still have a… euh… very… feminine figure." Jon was blushing slightly as he took a step back and gestured to her body. The blue dress she had donned this evening, despite being demure and dull in colour and shape, still highlighted very much the fact that she was a woman. She had a naturally narrow waist and wider hips, but had a very slender and small frame, rather like Sansa, so it was unavoidable that some form of figure would show. "You're going to have to wear very loose fitting shirts and trousers. I think you may have to… bind… your chest also. If… ah… If you need… help? I can… sort of. Euh… Do you own any breeches per chance? Any shirts?" Jon was awkwardly looking anywhere that wasn't Arielle much to her amusement. She may have even laughed if not for the gravity of the situation.

Arielle did in fact own some breeches and shirts, even some men's boots and overcoat. It wasn't on purpose that she had taken them, but when she had been washing her clothes in the river that flowed through the Godswood, some men from the keep had dumped their dirty underclothes and coats in with her dresses and underclothes. When washing them, she hadn't realised they had become entangled and she had simply brought them back to her room unwittingly. The shoes however had been Robb's. When she had stepped in horse dung once on a ride outside the walls, and the shit was seeping through her shoes, Robb had let her borrow his, and went shoe-less for the rest of his journey. She had been a lot younger then, only 15 or 16 at most, but her feet had not grown whilst Robb's most certainly had since the age of 17. She had forgotten to return them to him afterwards and he never asked for them back, hence why she still had them.

She rushed to her armoire and brought out the clothes, surprising Jon. He had a questioning and almost angry look on his face, as he recognised that the boots had once belonged to Robb. She suddenly realised what it must look like to him; these could be clothes belonging to a none-existent lover… Her face turned red, and she explained the story to Jon who seemed to pacify easily. He was inwardly relieved. He didn't know what he would have done if he had found out that Arielle was sleeping with his brother. He was no fool, he knew that the pair were close, but the thought of the two being together like _that_ pained him somewhat. He couldn't place why.

Arielle rushed behind the divider that sat in front of her bath. Shedding her dress quickly and easily (it wrapped over and tied at the front) she flung it so it hung over the top of the divider, then her underclothes after that. Little did she know, on the other side Jon was struggling to stifle certain thoughts about the fact that not three feet from him was standing a naked woman. Jon himself had never been with anyone. He was a virgin, for noble reasons he had assured himself. That didn't however mean that he didn't have… urges. He had touched himself of course. The thought of Arielle's naked body was having certain effects on him, and he tried to drive his mind away from the topic. Everything flew through his mind, but nothing was working particularly well at that moment in time.

His _issue_ had half gone by the time Arielle came out from behind the screen, donned in the slacks, shirt and boots that she had taken with her. Her figure was drowned in the large items of clothing, the pants fitting her at the waist and hips but swamping the curves of her legs. The boots were the right size for her, he noted. This was good, as it meant he would not have to procure new ones for her before the journey. His gaze rose to her upper torso. The shirt covered the fact that she had a waist but there was one… small issue. The thin cotton shirt hung from Arielle's pert breasts very obviously, and whilst she was not very well endowed, the curves of her chest were accentuated. Through the shirt, he could see the silhouette of Arielle's nipples, and the way the fabric clung to the small buds had him almost hypnotised. His gaze moved upwards quickly in an attempt to get himself under control. The fit of the shirt made her shoulders look sharper and more square, which was good because it made her look less of a woman.

Jon cleared his throat. "Yeah. That's good. You just need to erm-" Jon gestured vaguely to his own chest area causing Arielle to blush and look down sharply. Once she realised what was on show, she squeaked and hid behind the screen quickly, crossing her arms and squashing them down. All Jon then heard was some muffled speaking. "What?" he asked her. This time he heard what she had said.

"Is there a bolt of cloth anywhere?" She asked shyly. Jon looked around the room until he found one sitting in a wicker basket next to her bed. He tossed it over the partition hearing a loud _thump_ and a muffled cry of pain.

"Sorry Elle." He murmured shyly.

"It's okay Jon… Thank you." She spoke softly back, almost so that he didn't hear. He wondered at first what she was thanking him for, and was left wondering so much that he didn't hear the small cough for attention from behind the divider. Arielle meanwhile was struggling. She had never bound her chest before. It was small enough that she didn't have the need to, and thus she was at a loss. There was a silence before she coughed again, more exaggerated than the last time. Jon realised that she was signalling him after the second time.

"Oh… yes?" Jon asked tentatively.

"Jon, I'll be honest with you. I'm exhausted and I have no idea what I'm doing. It's almost the morning and I want to be done with all this. Help please." Arielle at this point was bored and tired. She needed to sleep before tomorrow if she was going to have her wits about her in order to pull off this whole shenanigan. She realised somewhat too late that this would mean Jon seeing her in a state of undress but at this point her dignity had already disappeared when she tried on the shirt. Arielle walked out from behind the divider, holding the bolt of fabric down harshly on her breasts so that they were flat. It was extremely uncomfortable. Jon blanched and couldn't help but to examine her frame as she stepped out. He could see everything apart from what she was covering, from the large mottled scar on her shoulder to the way her hip bones protruded above where her breeches hung off her hips. He coughed, choking on his saliva, swallowed quickly, and walked to help his _friend._ He had to keep reminding himself that that's what she was. A _friend._ He shouldn't be having these types of thoughts about his friends, it was crass and beneath him.

 _'Just like Arielle should be- beneath you'_ A voice in his head whispered. He berated and ignored the voice, warning Arielle to brace herself and keep a tight hold on the cloth.

She did as she was told and he pulled the fabric tightly, pushing Arielle's elbows up to wrap the cloth around her. Their position was intimate, and it looked as though he was embracing her from behind. He pushed all thoughts from his mind and focused on the task at hand, winding the fabric round her chest and pulling tightly, tugging harshly at the material. Arielle however was focusing on not dying. She was struggling to breathe as it was with the binding so tight, but Arielle was too busy analysing Jon's features. He was close to her- very close indeed. She could see every air atop his head and every freckle dotted across his face. She was close enough that she could see the stubble that she had shaved that very morning. _'Oh, how things can change in a day'_ she thought bitterly. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Jon's cold hands tucking the fabric into itself at the back of her binding. He had come behind her, and was standing as he was before in front of the mirror with her, one hand on her shoulder, the other doing its job.

"That should do it." Spoke Jon softly, as he cleared his throat once more. Arielle noted his voice sounded thick, and she wondered if she was having the same effect on him that he was on her. _'Probably not. You're his friend. Just his friend'_ She thought to herself. She fetched the shirt from behind the partition and placed it over her head.

"Now?" She asked Jon. He had to admit, she made a convincing boy. With her chest bound and hair short, she could probably pass for a young eunuch of about 17. Jon believed it may just work. Arielle wandered over to the mirror to look at herself once more, shocked to find she was in agreement with Jon. She looked like a young boy. She examined herself from all angles only to find it was incredibly convincing.

"This could work Jon. This could actually work."

"You had doubts?" He smirked back. "Okay, the overcoat now." He spoke, and retrieved said item off Arielle's bed. He smiled as he placed it over her shoulders, noting the excessive size of it. He almost laughed, but when buckled it looked much more convincing. Arielle maintained looking in the mirror. She was almost in shock from how she looked. She had no idea she could look so different from two small changed. She allowed a small, toothy grin to stretch across her face, which prompted Jon to return it.

"Jon… Don't you think I should have some kind of a story? Some sort of alibi? Like a name… where I'm from and so on?" And with that statement the pair stayed up well into the next day when It was time to go. She was no longer Arielle Sixsmith, she was Eli Broderick, a farm boy from Winterfell who had stolen bread and money from her father, and run away from home to join the Night's watch. She had arrived at the keep at the time of the feast and found Benjen, who had agreed to take her on. Benjen however didn't know this until the next morning, when Jon caught him before he had saddled his horse. He explained little, giving his uncle the false story instead of the real one. He hated lying to his uncle but he wanted to protect Arielle- Eli- more. The fewer people who knew who Arielle truly was, the better. Sure enough, when the morning arrived, and a sleepless Arielle rose from her bed, there was chaos. The King's party searched for Arielle Sixsmith all morning but she was nowhere to be found, but Eli Broderick, a farm boy from Winterfell had slipped away with Benjen and Jon earlier that morning.

"Ho! Wait!" A voice called from behind the three riders. They all paused. Arielle had hated being on horseback, she could barely stay upright never mind control the damn beast. She simply twisted her back in the saddle to look for the source of the voice. It was freezing, colder so at Castle Black, so she was eager to get there and disgruntled at the interruption. Upon actually seeing the source of the interruption however, she froze and nearly broke down then and there. It was the Imp. Tyrion Lannister himself. He _knew_ her. He _knew_ her face; he had seen her the day before! "I find myself in need of a trip to the north and therefore will accompany you fine fellows." He spoke, catching Arielle's eyes. She blanched and went a deathly shade of white. "You there boy! What's your name?" Cried Lord Tyrion.

"Eli, Milord. Eli Broderick." Arielle put on a gruff voice and lowered her tone, dropping into a more lilting northern accent like Jon's rather than her well-spoken voice like Sansa's. Lord Tyrion smiled. "And tell me Eli... Have you ever been with a woman?" He smiled devilishly. This was going to be one hell of a long journey for Arielle.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: hey you lot! So it's been a few days since the last update. I was working in a small town in Valladolid, Spain. It had no wifi and not a lot of electricity, so there was really no point in bringing my laptop. Now however, I'm back in Navalcarnero, Madrid, so I have a butt tonne of wifi and work to do. Love you all so much! Special shout outs to BloodyBlondeVamp once again, and to CherryTootsiePop for their investment and input on the story, and thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. They make me so happy and I'm genuinely over the moon with the response to their relationship development. Thank you all, hope you're all doing well! 3**

 **A/N: Mark two: I just want to apologise also for the slowing frequency of updates. I am in fact working in Spain, not on holiday and so won't be able to update daily until the 12** **th** **August which is when I get home.**

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It was a very, very long journey to Castle Black. Arielle had created the identity of Eli Broderick rather masterfully she thought, at times surprising herself with her ingenuity. Eli Broderick had never been with a woman, she had decided, because he didn't like women. He liked men. Jon had nearly sputtered when she explained that to Lord Tyrion, whom then proceeded to tease her about it for the rest of the journey, never failing to mention that a eunuch such as herself should be excited to go to a place with so many "Strapping, horny young eunuchs such as herself, just desperate to stick their cocks in something soft, warm and new." Jon got angry at that she noted, but Arielle just laughed it off and kept up the act, laughing at Jon with her eyes when the pair exchanged glances. She decided she quite liked Lord Tyrion, with her, Benjen and himself throwing wit and caution to the wind, having a laugh as she supposed most men did. She couldn't talk like this with women and it drove her insane to no end. There was so much bloody propriety and manners to learn with being a woman. Being a man (a man on the run at that) she was ironically more free.

After a while Arielle felt her legs growing tired, the horse giving her a hard time and working against rather than with her. She was almost clumsier on horseback than on foot, something hard to imagine by any stretch of the imagination. She felt herself drifting off, resting her head on the horse's long mane, leaning forwards in her saddle. She dreamt of her brother at Castle Black, or rather the lack of her brother. Her dream turned into a nightmare when his laughing face as she remembered it had turned into something icy and hideous, with rotting skin and bright blue icy eyes. In her dream, she had screamed until she could no longer. When she awoke, the could see the great expanse of the white wall in front of her, that seemed to go up and outwards forever. "Are we close?" She called out gruffly to Benjen, the sleepiness and hoarse tone of her voice aiding in helping her appear like a man. She wasn't sure if the nightmare she had was contributing to the thickness of her voice or not. Benjen and Jon, who were a few paces ahead of her, turned back to look at her newly awakened face.

Tyrion meanwhile shouted forwards "AH! Snoring beauty awakes! I thought we were being attacked by wolves at one point, but no. It was just you growling." The men laughed whilst an embarrassed blush flushed Eli's frost bitten cheeks. They were further north now, so the once crispy grass had turned into snow covered fields. She caught Jon's eyes which were crinkled with mirth at her expense, and threw up a less than pleasant hand gesture in his direction, causing more gest at her embarrassment too, and strident laughter to clatter and echo through the trees. Arielle grinned sheepishly as Benjen responded, details of her nightmare momentarily and willingly forgotten.

"Not long now," He called back to her, "Whilst you were snoring your arse off, we covered a hearty distance. I'd say we'll be there before sundown!" Sundown, apparently, was fast approaching, as in what seemed like no time at all, the group had arrived before the black gates leading up to the castle. The King's Road was no longer visible beneath the thick white expanse, of snow and the wall, with Castle Black providing a striking contrast against the icy wall. Arielle was scared shitless. Only now had the gravity of her situation sunk in, having only seen the wall for the first time today, she had never before understood why it was so big, or so wide, or so tall. Seeing puny little castle black next to the great white finally made her understand. The wall was there to help them- protect them. They were simply guardians of the wall; the wall itself did the hard part. Running up the wall in two lines was the lift and the stairs. The lift ran up the wall as far as the eye could see, and the eye could see very far. The stairs ran parallel to the lift, only in little zig zags. Arielle shivered and tightened her cloak around her, although she wasn't entirely sure it was the cold that was making her shiver this way. She held an admiration for anyone who willingly came to such a godforsaken place, because whilst the stories were of valiant and brave men, this was a hellhole. Her horse had stopped, seemingly struck by the same awe as she was. Jon pulled his horse back to level with hers.

"You okay Eli?" He nudged her elbow with his. She turned to look at him sharply, the nudge kicking her out of her stupor. She was glad that Jon had remembered to use her fake name and not her real one too… She herself would have forgotten if not reminded. Arielle couldn't reply eloquently in her current state of shock: Only nod. The sight before her and nightmare of her brother was playing on her mind heavily. Jon took a moment to study her. Her cheeks were red with the cold and eyelashes held flecks of snow that wouldn't seem to melt no matter how much she blinked. Her doe-ish blue eyes seemed to compliment the snow, but contrast greatly with her muddy brown hair. They visibly held a primal fear that had bubbled up to the surface, one that Jon himself felt, only his was in the pit of his stomach. In that moment, Jon noted her lips were blue, and wanted nothing more than to warm them up for her. _'So what are you waiting for?'_ A voice in his head asked him; an idea he shook off as soon as it appeared. "Eli?" Jon nudged her again. Not satisfied with the nervous nod she gave. She needed to be strong if she was to pull this off.

Lord Tyrion pulled his horse to beside them. "What's wrong Broderick? Cat got your tongue _and_ your bollocks too?" He smirked and rode off to the gates with Benjen, failing to notice the lack of reaction from the younger girl- or boy for that matter.

"Arielle," Jon hissed quietly, when he was certain nobody would hear him. "You're making me nervous, snap out of it, what's wrong?"

"I'm scared alright?!" Were the only three words she said, before moving onwards, leaving Jon feeling a little guilty for snapping at her. The group rode onwards together to the big black gate, and Arielle saw guards posted in the towers either side. The walkway in the middle was where she saw her first official man of the Night's Watch. He was clad in black with furs draped down his shoulders, a large cape and coat billowing in the wind. He had a stern look on his face, and his eyes looked tired and battle-worn. He shouted down to Benjen, who shouted something back that Arielle could not discern through the howling winds. The man's eyes drifted over her and Jon, stopping on Lord Tyrion. He shouted something to someone Arielle could not see, but she could only guess it was the person who controlled the gates, for they proceeded to open slowly and painfully, with a loud creak.

The group rode forwards, and Arielle was met with a courtyard full of men in black. Some of them were in chains, others roaming freely. She grimaced as she realised that these men were the prisoners often sent to Castle Black. These men could be rapists, murderers or worse. She shrunk back in her saddle slightly, only to realise the other men in her party had all dismounted. She started to pull her feet out of the stirrups and hop down off the horse, only for her left foot to get caught and for her to fall flat on her face in the frost bitten mud. She felt her injuries on her head pulse with pain, and was fairly sure that the entirety of the right hand side of her face was now going to be bruised and bloody. Everyone around the courtyard was laughing at her misfortune, some were even groaning with disappointment that their new brother would be so weak. Jon however, was fighting the urge to dash over to her, pull her off the ground and scan her for injury. He needed to control these impulses. Whilst Arielle was a girl, Eli was not. Eli was a man and he needed to be treated as such. Jon let out a false chuckle, that seemed to die in his throat. He didn't quite have the heart to laugh. Not only was he himself nervous, but his dream wasn't turning out to be all it was cracked up to be. Looking round the courtyard, he didn't see honourable men, he saw criminals and lost men. He grimaced to himself.

After righting herself, Arielle wandered over to where Jon was standing. "Not what you expected Snow?" She asked quietly. Jon simply shook his head. She walked over to where Benjen was talking with the man from the gate, who's eyes snapped to her form as soon as she approached.

"And who- or what- have we here?" He asked. Arielle froze thinking he had noticed she was a girl, but then realised he was only asking her name and story.

"Eli Broderick, Sir. I come from the farms outside Winterfell. I stole some food from my father and ran away… He beat me because I… like… men." The older man just let out a sharp, grating laugh.

"Well Broderick you're not the only one here who likes men. You think you're going to survive out here?" Arielle shook her head once. She knew that she wouldn't survive the cold and harsh conditions of beyond the wall…. Nobody did. "You're right there. You're going to go through hell. You're going to wish you were dead before you actually are. You're going to scream and cry and nearly die at least 10 times. Your blood is going to curdle in your veins and freeze you from the inside out, and soon enough your heart will go numb with all that you've seen." the man's expression had turned to stone. Arielle had shrunk back and her shoulders had hunched. She had never realised what a disadvantage being small had been before until now surrounded by towering men. "So lad. You think you're going to be able to protect your new brothers? You're wrong. Commander Mormont at your service." Arielle shrunk back and away from the older man. "Away with you." He commanded, and she walked rapidly back to where Jon was standing amidst chuckles from the men round the courtyard. Humiliated, she kept silent.

Arielle scuttled to Jon's side, standing slightly behind his back as though he were an impenetrable wall through which no harm could come to her. In a way, that was true, as he had always stuck up for her and protected her to the extent that only Lord Eddard could match. When she was 12 for example, she was bullied by some of the other little toe rags from around the keep. Lord Karstark's son frequently chased her and pushed her head into the dirt when he visited with his father- a frequent occurrence. He claimed that "Because you have the body of a boy, you can take being beaten like one!" She never had the heart to tell Lord or Lady Stark what was happening, at that point she had believed she was already enough of a burden. Being physically weak, she couldn't have done anything to stop her tormentors. Jon and Robb however, as soon as she had meekly confessed to them what was happening after they had witnessed a particularly gruesome demonstration, had ground the boy's face into a pile of pig shit for her, threatening that if he were to do it again they'd force feed his own shit to him through a tube. Needless to say, being threatened by the most powerful Lord in the North's sons got him to stop fairly quickly. It was like she had constantly been protected all her life- going to King's landing would have meant being away from that which terrified her. She would rather be here in this frozen over hell than away from her saviours.

Jon digging an elbow into her gut broke her from her memories, and she noted that they were moving forwards deeper into castle black. She wasn't paying attention to what was being said, too busy observing her surroundings. Castle Black was truly a place for lost men. Everyone was wearing black, the castle itself was dark as the Night's Sky against the great white expanse behind it. Arielle shuddered. That was until her name was called with Jon's. "Right you lot, it's three to a dorm, you get sheets and clothes and that's it. You won't need anything else. Broderick, Snow. You'll be staying in this dorm with Sixsmith, but he's out on a ranger's mission at the moment. Won't be back for a few months yet…" The rest was a complete blur to Arielle. Her brother was here. Albert was here. Jon's eyes snapped to her as he noticed her face draw blank. Albert was here. She had always wondered what had happened to him after he joined the Night's Watch and now she knew. He must be around 24? 25 years old now? He had joined not long before Arielle went to Winterfell. It was a great loss to the family, as Albert was expected to carry on his father's business… Now he was god knows where beyond the wall. Jon noted Arielle's- Eli's- face had gone as ghastly white as the wall itself. "Right, you two get sorted, the rest of you with me in the east wing of the castle." The two trudged into their room and the door swung shut behind them. Arielle burst into tears of relief. She had made it. _They_ had made it. Her brother was alive.


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Wow! Okay, so I'm a little underwhelmed with the response from the last chapter, I know I was gone for a while but my updates will be more regular now! I've left Spain, Madrid etc. and returned to rainy old England so expect frequent updates from now on. I have a really good idea of where I'm going to take this story now and would LOVE to hear your input! Love you all! xxxx**

After a very short, fitful night's sleep, Arielle was awake. Jon was not, and had snored all night because of the cold so Arielle was left practically alone in their room. Her brother's room. The sky was still dark which meant it was not time to wake yet- they always awoke at first light in the Night's watch. Arielle slipped out of bed, still wearing her thick night clothes, and padded across to the empty bed sitting in the empty corner of the room, whilst the frost from outside bit at her toes. She wanted so badly to be able to see her brother sleeping there, to see him smile and laugh. To hear him say her name; but he was God knows where beyond the wall. Arielle dropped to her knees in front of the heavy wooden chest that rested besides Albie's bed. It wasn't locked, so Arielle gently pushed the lid open, wincing as it creaked and Jon stirred in his bed. When she was sure he was sleeping restfully once more she continued opening the chest, if only to peak for a minute at the contents. She wasn't expecting what she saw. Inside the chest there were, buried beneath stacks of woollen and fur clothing, lots of leather bound journals. She opened one of them and flipped to the first page. From what she could tell, it had been written by her brother and was describing his time here in the night's watch, but she had no idea that her brother knew how to write? Her father never taught him even though he knew how, and Maester Luwin had taught herself, so it came as a surprise to her. Arielle smiled. She was incredibly proud of her brother, albeit sad she hadn't been there to see him.

She would have continued to flick through the rest of the journals if not for realising Jon was starting to awake. With another loud creak, the lid swung shut and she leapt into her own bed, feigning sleep. She faced the wall so that Jon could not see her face, but her eyes were wide open as she faced the wall. From Jon's angle, she just looked snuggled up in bed. She heard Jon let out a breathy laugh, and listened as he padded into the washroom. She heard water splashing before she heard his voice. "I know you're awake _Eli."_ He spoke gently, almost so that Arielle didn't hear him. At first she ignored him, but then "What were you doing with his things? Elle, I know he's your brother, but you have to understand that he's not _Eli Broderick's_ brother. If you got caught it would raise a lot of suspicion." Arielle grimaced.

"Jon… I… He's my brother Jon. I've missed him so much. I haven't heard from him in god… 10? 11 years? I don't even know anymore. I just miss… having family."

"What, and we're not your family? In Winterfell?" Jon seemed to sour and his eyes darkened. Arielle realised her offense.

"You KNOW I love you all Jon, and you're all my family. But this is my brother by birth… I didn't mean it like that… You know I love you all… Robb, Arya, Sansa… They're my family." Arielle stepped forwards, taking Jon's hands in her own, holding them close to her chest. Her previous embarrassment at being caught had disappeared and now all that was left was regret and a little bit of aggravation that Jon was so easily inflamed. She knew he was just stressed, but that didn't mean he had to be an arsehole. Her heckles were up but she let it go. She didn't want Jon to be pissed off with her, she didn't want to have to handle the stroppy male, let alone deal with hiding herself amongst thousands of other stroppy males. Jon seemed to relax at her words, the little crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"And me? What am I to you if not family?" He asked. Arielle had no words and froze on the spot. He stepped forwards, still with her hands and breached the distance between them. What on earth was she supposed to say to that!? His eyes had softened into the deep chestnut they normally were, and he was looking at her with such an intensity that she was sure her blush was boiling her face alive. She realised she had probably been standing there looking like an invalid for several minutes without replying, and opened her mouth to give an answer, when three abrupt fist pounds on the door interrupted her, making the two jump apart hastily. Jon gave her a look that said ' _we'll continue this later'_ as he strode over to the door, and swung it open, leaving Arielle suddenly feeling rather chilly and hot at the same time. She wandered over to her bed and hiked on her boots, giving her feet relief from the cold outside. Her small frame was a disadvantage in this aspect. She was smaller, which meant she was colder faster. Her shoes too were too big, and flopped around on her feet, causing draughts of icy air to spill over the top of her boot every time she took a step. She plodded over to the door, her cheeks already going ruddy from the cold. It was just a runner, announcing the start of breakfast and the wakeup call. She had failed to notice that the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, but it had now come to her attention.

Arielle and Jon headed out to the hall where breakfast was served; the two walked side by side in silence, neither one feeling the need to break it. Apprehension suddenly overtook Arielle as she arrived at the large double doors. This would be her first time interacting freely with the men of Castle Black as Eli Broderick, the eunuch from the farms of Winterfell. She squared her shoulders before walking into the room, grateful that she had slept with her chest bound, although it was making it difficult for her to breathe at times. When the pair entered, she breathed a sigh of relief. They were the first two people there bar Lord Tyrion and Benjen. The pair wandered over to the dwarf and the raven, half smiling- half grimacing.

"Morning," Arielle grumbled quietly, as a bowl of what appeared to be fowl stew was placed in front of her along with a chunk of staling bread. She grimaced but continued to eat anyway. The stew in itself wasn't bad, but she had always been a fussy eater, and the bread put her off slightly.

"Why Good morning my dearest friends! Such sour expressions on such a lovely morning! Tell me, who gave and who received last night?" Lord Tyrion proclaimed extravagantly, causing both Arielle and Jon to choke violently on their mouthfuls. Benjen just sat chuckling to himself at the pair's reactions. A vibrant blush had spread across both their cheeks, and not from the cold. Lord Tyrion however was not finished.

"What's the matter Snow? Surely Broderick convinced you with his boyish charm to give yourself to him? I imagine you're still in a bit of pain, the first time is always the hardest." Tyrion had smirked and played the nonchalant card, leaving Arielle and Jon sputtering into their broth. The pair looked at each other like startled deer, their minds going back to the conversation this morning. Arielle's soup suddenly didn't look as appetising as it had done previously, and the already stale bread made her feel queasy. She wasn't sure however, if it was the food or the growing butterflies in her stomach. What had Jon meant this morning? Where was this conversation going? The laughter of Lord Tyrion grated her thoughts and broke her out of her embarrassed stupor. She was not about to let the imp one up her. Arielle was not going to sit back and let herself be victimised like that, if she wanted to survive out here, or at least keep her head above the metaphorical water, then she would have to show a bit of character…

"It is? And how would you know that milord Tyrion, tried it yourself have you?" Arielle smirked, causing Jon's draw to drop and Benjen's cackling to grow louder and more raucous, drawing the attention of the men trailing in from their bunks. Lord Tyrion sputtered and withdrew in shock. A sly grin spread across everyone's faces, including Tyrion's.

"You know what Eli Broderick? I think I quite like you." Arielle simply made a shrugging motion and grinned into her stale bread. She lifted her goblet in a toast, which Tyrion mimicked. The hot sweet wine trailed down her throat warming her from the inside out and she sighed with relief and bliss. Hot wine was always her favourite, she enjoyed the way it left a fruity aftertaste on her lips for hours after. She smiled to herself and her tongue darted out to lick her lips subtly. Little did she realise she was being watched by Jon, who had smiled affectionately at her actions. He knew of her penchant for mulled wine, and was almost mesmerised by the way she licked her lips. He coughed and looked away, continuing his meal. Arielle was left oblivious to this as she continued to eat the mediocre meal. When finished, she had time to speak with the group of men once more before training started.

Arielle had anticipated that she would suffer during training, but she could never have imagined the pain and intensity with which her arms would burn within the first 10 minutes of carrying a sword. As she stood in the courtyard with one of the men (Pypar his name was) squared off, against the equally weedy boy, her breathing was growing heavy and her clear lack of fitness was showing. The commander was shouting commands for them to practise, yet each time she was struck her sword clattered to the ground. "Come on Broderick, what are you, a mouse?" Pypar jeered, causing Arielle to grit her teeth in annoyance. She didn't mind sparring with Pypar, all in all he was a good first partner, but he was so _enthusiastic_ and Arielle just… wasn't. _'It could be called apathy, defeatism or exhaustion'_ mused Arielle, _'but I cannot; will not use a sword.'_ Again with a loud clang she was disarmed and whacked on the arm by the broad sword. She winced in pain and flinched.

"Ow, you bastard!" She cried indignantly, only to face more laughter from her opponent. It was at times like these when her puny stature gave her a severe disadvantage, and her bad temper left her feeling dejected and low in mood. She _knew_ she wouldn't be able to fight so why did she bother in the first place? She should just become a steward instead or something, she could serve! It's what she'd been doing her whole life so why stop now? A whack on the shins once again broke her from her thoughts and another to her arse caused her to wheel round. "Oi!" She yelled again, only to be faced with a large, burly older man. She shrunk back in fear. He jerked his head as if to say ' _bugger off'_ so that was exactly what she did- she didn't have the heart to fight at the moment. She slunk off to the side lines in search of a friendly face, whereupon she saw Jon fighting spectacularly in the centre of the courtyard. He was surrounded by at least 4 men, Pypar being one of them- she had wondered where he had disappeared to. The men were clearly no match for Jon, and it was almost amusing to watch them all try only to fail. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched Jon ducking and weaving beneath the wooden swords. An initiate from behind jabbed his sword in the direction of his head, the blade wobbling in the air as it missed. The man shortly found himself disarmed as Jon whirled round to face more of them. With a shout, their battle was halted by the commander who bollocked Jon thoroughly for his display of prowess, although Arielle was not quite sure why. Did they not need men of skill in the Night's Watch? Surely Jon was more valuable alone than all of the rest of these degenerates combined?

The spectacle was slowly brought to a halt with the opening of the main gates, through which passed four riders. Arielle realised sharply that this was likely to be the ranger patrol that held her brother as she pushed her way to the front of the amassing crowd, Jon's eyes following her actions closely, as though he had read her mind. At this moment in time, the riders were all cladded in furs, hoods and hats with their faces obscured so Arielle was left waiting in suspense like the rest of the men. She scanned the physiques of the men on horseback. None of them particularly looked like her brother in stature, although it had been over 10 years, maybe he had changed? She remembered her brother at 16 being particularly tall and Lanky, and all the men here were only just taller than Lord Eddard. Her hopes were slowly decreasing as the first man removed his hood to reveal someone who appeared to be a grizzled mercenary, and the second a baby-faced boy who was probably not much older than herself and Jon. The third had yet to quit his hood, but when he did, it was revealed to be a man of around 40 like Benjen, he was not entirely ugly and surely his looks could have rivalled Jaime Lannisters had he not been some form of criminal. The fourth had yet to removed himself from his horse and yet to remove his hood. She watched with interest as the hooded figure moved to the Commander and appeared to whisper something in his ear and pass something to him from beneath the furs of his coat. It was only then that he removed his hood.

At first, Arielle slunk in disappointment. It was not her brother. From the back, the man had grey hair, and from what she could see a short white beard. When he turned to face the crowds Arielle recoiled in horror. No. It couldn't be. The man in question was not her brother.

It was her father.

He had changed a lot, and had lost weight, but there was no mistaking the hooked nose and twinkling blue eyes. It was him. It was Iain Sixsmith. Her father's eyes scanned the crows and appeared to lock onto her face after a moment, leaving Arielle paralysed in horror and fear. There were too many unanswered questions in her head, but right now the main question was whether he recognised her or not. She received her answer when his mouth dropped and eyes burst open. All colour seemed to drain from his face as the pair stared at each other from across the courtyard. She hadn't noticed Jon shaking her violently form beside her and the whole world seemed like it had disappeared. She stared; stared into the glossy blue eyes of her long lost father.


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Trigger warning: Anxiety, Anxiety attacks etc. This chapter was hard for me to write because to an extent I'm writing from personal experience. I'm writing from my own anxiety attacks and my own life, especially about the father part. I'm welling up writing as I type this even, so I hope you all enjoy this chapter. 3**

Her head was spinning as she pushed her way back through the crowd to her quarters. It felt like the world was moving in slow motion; like she'd been spinning round for hours and had only now had the chance to stop. Her feet, while hitting the floor, felt like there was nothing supporting them. Bile was threatening to creep up her throat and she was sure it was being aided by the stale bread at breakfast. Making it to her cabin felt like a godsend as she slammed the door behind her, chest heaving with sobbing breaths. Tears streamed down her face and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the heart-wrenching noises she was making. Her chest started to heave faster and faster until she realised her body was turning to a state of panic. She wasn't able to breathe, or at least she thought she wasn't. Her lungs were sucking in air desperately and her shoulders started shaking and heaving with the wracking breaths. She slunk down beside her bed nestled into the corner between her chest and her folded sheets. She eyed the bed in the corner of the room now realising that it was her father's, not her brothers. Her brother didn't know how to write. Her shoulders were still trembling and her blind panic in full swing when Jon burst into the room- accompanied by her father. Jon slammed the door behind him, his eyes scanning the room and growing frosty and scared when he saw what a state his friend was in. He had seen her like this before, only a few times. Once, after she was brought back to Winterfell for the first time by his father; The second was after the incident with Lord Karstark's son and the third and fourth were the days surrounding the incident with Theon and Joffrey. He knew how to handle Arielle when she got like this.

Jon moved to Arielle who had yet to acknowledge his existence, her eyes blank and unseeing. He hauled her off the ground and bundled her into his arms, rocking her backwards and forwards in careful motions. His hands cradled her head and her legs as he stroked her hair in a repetitive rhythm, whispering sweet words of encouragement with his lips pressed against the top of her head. Her father simply watched in bewilderment. Arielle however was not calming, her tears flowing at an even faster rate and her hyperventilation becoming dangerously fast. She was not able to take in a breath at this rate, her body seeming to reject normal function. She would faint fairly soon if she did not breathe. Arielle had vaguely registered being held by someone, her head now focusing on the fact that she couldn't breathe. She felt like the world was ending and that she was going to die. Jon knew the only other thing that would calm her down, and whilst he loathed doing it in front of her father, it was the only way he knew how. He started to sing. It was the lullaby that Arielle's father used to sing to her when he was little to help her go to sleep. Jon had tried it with her when he had heard her sing it to Arya one night when she was very young. After asking her about it, he had tried singing it on her second panic attack. It had worked well.

Arielle's eyes darted upwards to meet Jon's as soon as the first word had left his lips, her eyes now transfixed on his. The pair stared at each other as Jon sung lowly, so that only she could hear, her once racking breaths dying down to the point where she was mouthing the words in time with him, tears still streaming down her face. Iain, in the corner, was transfixed on the scene. He was unable to hear the exchange between the two, too bemused by the fact that his daughter was in front of him to even be able to think. He could not help but to stand and stare, his feet not compelling him to move. The sound of sobbing had left the room now and was replaced with silent tears. Arielle's eyes would not stop leaking. She smiled grimly as she snuggled deeper into Jon's chest, the previous anxiety being replaced with a dull ache in her chest from the exertion. Her throat burned as she had not swallowed and was left raw and dry with the air flow. Her head throbbed and pounded in her skull, and she felt like she had drunk nightshade.

Jon and Arielle's eyes were locked, until she drew them to the corner of the room where her father stood. She removed herself from Jon's embrace and suddenly missed the warmth and comfort he provided. She drew closer to her father until he was no more than a metre away. She stared at his face. In reality, he had not changed much. His eyes had drooped and his once smooth face was now creased with age. His blue eyes still sparkled from beneath his bushy white brows. The only thing that Arielle could really call new was the beard sprouting from his chin and jaw. Her eyes flickered to his hands, and noted the same missing chunk of flesh from when she was a young girl. It had happened in a smithing accident, one that Arielle remembered vividly. He had burnt away his flesh on hot metal trying to stop her from playing with a freshly forged sword. She was only 7.

"Elle…" He spoke. Arielle froze and her eyes snapped to his face. Tears were dripping down his cheeks, and her heart wrenched as he used his old nickname for her, the one that Jon seemed to have adopted as his own. A sudden burst of rage flew through Arielle. How dare he come back into her life like this!

"No. You don't get to call me that. Not now, not ever again. I waited for you, for hours! It felt like the longest wait of my life, and here you are! Where the fucking hell did you go?!" Arielle's voice grew stronger and stronger as she shouted at her father. "You left me out there to die in the forest at night! And you know what, I nearly did! I was nearly raped and murdered but if it wasn't for Eddard Stark, who by the way sent out over 100 men to search for you, I would have starved to death in that forest alone! And you have the audacity to think that this will be some touching family reunion?! NO! I won't let you do that to me!" Arielle had a defiant and angry look on her face, one that sent her father into shock. He looked aghast and took a step back, raising his hands at his hellfire daughter. She had definitely grown, both in spirit and in body. Even though disguised as a boy, she still had a petite shape to her, and a decidedly feminine face under her newly shaggy mane. Her jawline was sharper than he remembered, and her nose slightly more crooked, possibly from an injury, but it was definitely her. "You don't get to come back into my life thinking that everything will be fine because it's not! I thought you left me, I thought you left me on purpose!" Arielle's voice grew thick and she stopped, tears threatening to spill over once more. Her father seemed to take this as a cue to step forward, only to recoil when Arielle shrugged off his approaching hand. He looked hurt.

A sense of anger was still growing in Arielle, which she knew was partly irrational. However, this was years of abandonment and hurt coming out in the only way she knew how. She turned away from her father and spoke quietly "Please, just go." She almost wished he would stay, wished he would persevere and fight for her, like he should have done all those years ago, but was left dismayed and heartbroken when she heard the door open and slam shut. She bowed her head in sadness, scrunching her hands into fists by her side until her nails drew blood. She couldn't take this anymore, any of it. She couldn't take Cersei, the Night's Watch, her father, her brother, Jon, any of it. She lashed out with her foot and began kicking the bed frame repeatedly, teeth gritted and arms thrashing about. She was on a mission to destroy something. Spit was flying from her mouth and she let out an animalistic growl every time her foot made contact with the bed. Her face grew red with anger and exertion. Jon took this as the cue to stop her. As his forceful arms wrapped round her to restrain her, she thrashed about. She fought against his grip with every ounce of her pathetic might, cursing in a way that Jon had never heard form a lady before. She growled and hissed until her energy seemed to leave her and she seemed to slump in Jon's arms. Her sobbing had returned once again but this time it was silent and full of hurt, rather than panic. Her weight brought the two of them to the floor, and once again, Jon sat cradling the crying girl.

Whilst he himself had nothing against Iain Sixsmith, he had heard tales of him off Arielle and knew of the pain he had caused her. Out of principle, Jon _should_ hate him. He couldn't bring himself to feel that way however, and was instead devising a way to get Arielle back into her father's life willingly. He needed to talk to Iain, alone, that much was obvious. He thought it wrong that Arielle reacted the way she did without considering the whole story but then again, she was struggling, a lot, and this had tipped her over the edge. He noticed her sobbing had stopped and her breathing had become regular. She was sleeping. Jon lifted her petite frame into bed once more and set her down gently on the covers. She wined when the heat of his body was denied to her, only to snuggle further into her duvet. It was at times like these when she reminded him of ghost, acting like an innocent puppy. He chuckled to himself as he left her to sleep. If anyone would ask for Eli's whereabouts, he would make something up. He would do anything for Arielle.

Stepping out of his cabin, he almost ran into Iain, who was leaning against the wall. Jon looked at him with pity. "Please… let me explain…" Jon held a hand up, and gestured inside, pressing a finger to his lips indicating that Iain should be quiet, he nodded then signaled for Iain to follow him. When they were further into the courtyard, Iain spoke. "Jon. Jon Snow. I know what you must think of me, but before you leap to any conclusions please hear my story." Jon simply nodded, an indicator for him to continue.

"The night when I left Arielle alone in the forest, I left her with a dagger. I left her for no more than what I hoped would be only a moment. I had no idea what would happen to me. A group of raiders spotted me and beat me until I passed out. When I awoke, it was the morning, and I was naked. I couldn't believe what had happened, I was horrified. I ran back to the camp that Arielle and I had set up, even with a broken leg, which believe me was damned near impossible, and I saw that dead man and I tried to find my daughter. I tried so hard. For days I walked, without food, without any clue of my direction, until the snowfall. I almost died, until Commander Mormont found me. He brought me here and that was that. I went through hell trying to find her, and I would do it a thousand times more. I didn't mean to never come back. I meant to be with my daughter. I want her back. God I want her back." Iain was crying by the end of his tale, and Jon felt a pang of pity for the older man. It truly was not his fault; it was circumstance that prevented his return. Jon nodded and patted the older man on the shoulder once.

"Don't worry. She's just hurting. She has a lot to deal with, and this? This just tipped her over. Of course she's hurt, anyone would be, but she just needs time. I'll work on her. In the meantime, keep your distance. Her identity is secret. Nobody can know who she truly is. To you, she is Eli Broderick, your bunk mate. That is all." Iain nodded as Jon spoke, with a tone of command. He heated to be like this with his daughter but he knew he had no choice. Jon however was trying to work out the best way to get Arielle to talk with her father. Whilst he knew it could go horrifically wrong between them, he had to at least try?


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hiya you lot, have an update! Weekly updates from now on!**

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Arielle was storming. Not just in her head, around Castle Black too. Everyone had noticed a new fire in young Eli Broderick since the second day; the reason for that was left unknown. Her footfalls had grown heavier and more purposeful, her speech harsher and more grating. Curses and swearing were becoming a part of her every day vocabulary. Arielle was becoming reckless, callous and started to blend in with the criminals around her much to Jon's disdain. It had been 14 days since the incident with her father and she had arisen early and come to bed late each of those days almost always drunk. She hardly spoke with him anymore, and had been pushing herself further and harder in the training yard until she was left bruised and bloody. A physical change had come over Arielle too; Her muscles had developed slightly, and in only 10 days of rigorous physical training she could now lift and basically wield a sword… not very well, however seeing as before she couldn't even lift one it was a step in the right direction. She had begun to develop strength and this showed in the way she carried herself. She was almost vicious in her actions, and had taken to hanging around with unsavoury sorts and criminals, like that Pypar she was always with. Jon knew it was to cope with the emotional strain she was under; to avoid her father; he knew it was because she was having a hard time, but he hated it. He hated seeing this side of her that wasn't herself. He hated seeing the previously kind and caring Arielle reduced to this… common man. It wasn't her… He wanted to change it; Oh God did he want to change it, with all of his heart. The issue was, she kept avoiding him, keeping it civil with polite smiles and nods of the head.

It made his heart hurt and he knew her father felt the same way seeing her like this. When he had seen how Arielle had treated that Samwell Tarley on his first day joining in with the jeers and jabs, he had decided that enough was enough. This wasn't her. Not too long ago she had been more like Samwell than Sam had. Jon had dragged Arielle by her shaggy hair into their shared cabin. It was just the two of them and they were safe from prying ears.

"Ow! Ow! What?! What the fuck are you doing?!" She cried, turning on Jon with eyes like a spitfire. It looked like she was a dragon getting ready to breathe flames over Jon until he was burnt to a crisp. He suddenly understood a bit more about how Rhaegar Targaryen must have felt.

"You need to stop." Jon said simply, assuming she'd understand. She hissed and recoiled in confusion instead.

"What?! What the fuck do you mean stop?! What have I done to deserve this?!" She cried, and tried to barge past him to escape from the door. Jon however, was still stronger than her. He launched her backwards so that she fell on her bed with a 'thud' and placed himself down next to her.

"It's locked. I have the key."

"Give it me Jon Snow, right now! Or I'll beat the crap out of you!" She hissed at him, balanced on all fours continuing to appear like some form of caged animal. Jon had had enough.

"DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF?! No! I'm sick of this! This isn't you! This isn't who you are! You're not this wannabe criminal who picks on and beats down on the little people!" Arielle scoffed and perched on the bed, facing the wall like a stroppy child causing Jon to look at her livid then continue with a new anger fuelling his rage. "Look, I know you're upset, but how do you think my siblings would react if they saw you?! Arya, Sansa? Robb? They'd be ashamed just like I am! Look at what you've become! You're worse than some of the murderers here! I don't understand why you've become like this?! If you're hurting Elle, I'm here. I want to help!" Arielle ignored him once again and sat in silence.

Jon huffed and stormed out of the cabin seeing red with anger. He practically leapt down the stairs to head to the training yard to let off some steam, leaving Arielle locked in her cabin behind him. She couldn't leave, as he had locked the door behind her. He knew he had no right to punish her but when she was being a vile little shit like this he had no choice. This scared him; this side of Arielle. It was one that he had never seen before and he hated it. He liked Arielle as who she was before… not whatever this was. As if sensing his discomfort, Ghost padded to his side and nuzzled the palm of his leather-gloved hand. He smirked slightly as an idea formed in his head. Jon crept silently to the door and pressed his ear against it. Inside he could still hear Arielle raging and shouting. Silently he unlocked the door and gestured for ghost to go inside. Whilst resistant at first, the young direwolf obeyed his master and plodded dejectedly into the room. He quickly locked the door once more and put the key in his breast pocket, tapping it as though to reassure himself it was actually there. Once again he pressed his ear to the cabin door, and heard a soft whining. It was ghost. Whilst Arielle's rage had subsided, her tears had started, and Ghost was lying on the floor next to her, his large head placed unceremoniously in the girl's lap. His ears were pricked but the pair looked relaxed with one another as she buried her face into his snowy coat, inhaling deeply.

Jon smiled as he backed away from the window. He left the cabin and proceeded to the training yard, hoping to work out a little more of his anger before he spoke to Arielle again.

Meanwhile, Arielle was left sobbing on the floor of her cabin, the cold from outside and inside seeping deeper into her bones. Ghost was left as her only companion. Her heart felt heavy with Jon's words and her shoulders drooped with the weight of what she was feeling. Her legs were crossed as she sat hunched over on the floor, her head in her hands. Blotchy red spots had started to appear from crying, and a rather unattractive string of snot was threatening to escape- that was until she wiped it on her sleeve. How could Jon have said those things to her? She was having _fun_ , blending in like he told her to do. Sure, she was drinking! Sure, she had a new crowd of mates. That didn't mean that bloody Jon snow had the right to go around telling her she was being a shit!

Her rage was slowly subsiding and left a sort of a numb loneliness sitting on her chest. She grimaced as she realised she was still locked in the freezing cold cabin. Arielle stroked ghosts head in a soft and gentle rhythm, causing her large white companion to huff in pleasure and let his eyes droop. It was at times like these that she forgot that Ghost was supposed to be some form of terrifying monster as opposed to a trained house dog. She smiled sadly, her cheeks stinging as the wind whistled through the cracks under the door. Arielle was left to think alone. Whilst she supposed she could have been a bit nicer to that Tarly boy, she was right. He was a fat little lump and was going to die out here if he didn't get his ideas together! Although, she supposed it could be said the same about her. The only difference was the fact that she _had_ changed. She was different already; No longer skin and bone like the pathetic little girl of her past. She could defend herself now, and stop relying on Jon to do it for her.

 _Jon._

She supposed she would have to have some form of awkward encounter with him now, one that would leave her once again not quite knowing where she stood with the Snow. She was grateful to him however. This emotion was probably everything that had been bubbling up like he said. He was often right about things like this- his father had taught him well, and had been the one to bring him up right. He did (sometimes) need a bit of a helping hand or someone to keep him on reins but then again didn't everyone?

Arielle froze. _Now_ she understood, and whilst she didn't like it, she knew. Jon was keeping her on reins just like she did with him. Had she really gone that far? A sense of shame washed over her as Ghost seemed to sense the discomfort within her and seemed to nuzzle into her as a form of comfort. Arielle smiled bitterly, and looked ghost in his ruby red eyes. "Was I that bad boy?" She stared; He stared. She was left with no answer.

Her eyes flickered upwards from her canine companion to the window, where she saw the mob of brown hair walking past next to one of grey. She moved Ghost off her, ignoring him as he whined indignantly. Her curiosity piqued when she saw Jon and her Father together, seemingly laughing and joking, on their way to the mess hall. She wondered why they would be going there when her own stomach rumbled, giving her an answer. It was food time. The pair were walking like comrades, and Arielle smiled slightly at the sight. Had she been on good terms with her father it might have made her smile more: Her father getting along with the man she was in love with. The thought slapped Arielle across the face like a tonne of limestone torn from the walls of the Castle in King's Landing. _NO._ She was not in love with Jon Snow. It was a respect, a mutual affection, a companionship, but it was _not_ love and would never be love. She supposed she loved him, but was not _in_ love with him. She couldn't be. Could she? She obviously found him attractive, she would be blind not to see that. Everyone knew Jon snow was attractive and everyone would admit it. However, this was no more than Rob or even Theon for that matter. Whilst she hated that little slime ball with a passion she could understand why people found him attractive, even if she didn't herself. "No." She spoke out loud, turning to face Ghost as if he were listening to her every word and able to understand. "I'm not in love with Jon Snow."

It was then that she heard the key rattle in the lock and plonked herself quickly on the floor beside ghost, bringing her knees to her chest. She expected to see Jon walk into the rickety cabin, a cheeky smirk on his face and his beard frosted over with little snowflakes dotted on his face, but no. It was not Jon Snow who walked into the room. It was Samwell Tarly, and he looked petrified. Her head shot up as he entered. "Er, Eli? S-Sorry for interruptin'. It's just… the lads were worried when you didn't come for your food…" Sam trailed off as Arielle stared at him in wonder, she had been _foul_ to Samwell Tarly and yet here he was coming to help her. It was then she realised what a horrid person she had actually been.

"Oh… Thank you…" She trailed off, only to find her voice just as he walked out of the room. "Sam!" She called out after him. The buffoon of a man paused and came into the room again, leaving the door open giving ghost the chance to shoot out. Silly dog.

"Yeah?"

"Sam I'm really sorry… for everything I've done to you. That… That's not me." Arielle was ashamed and her face dropped to the floor until she heard a slightly chuckle come from across the room.

"I know. Jon said you weren't normally like that. S'alright. Come get some food with me." Samwell left her in shock, but she followed him dutifully like a little lapdog. She was astounded by the man's capacity to forgive, but also understood it. He'd probably received a lot in his life that needed forgiving by the sounds of it. He was used to it and expected nothing different. That thought also punched Arielle in the gut leaving her with a second round of guilt. She grimaced behind his back but squared her shoulders and burst into the great hall with him. Shocked stares were sent her way as people saw who she entered with, and she knew she would receive hell from all the lads for this, but she didn't care. She would rather be a nice person to those who needed it than to those who weren't going to return it. Arielle and Sam plonked themselves down beside Jon, who threw Sam a smile that he returned. He simply gave Arielle an Inquisitive look, a raised eyebrow indicating a question. Arielle simply smiled meekly, then full on grinned when a bowl of soup was placed in front of her. Good Gods, she was starving.


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hiya you lot. I'm seriously underwhelmed now with the response to this story. Like on my last chapter I had no reviews whatsoever and I'm feeling like you're all sort of drifting away. I'm not going to update unless I get at least 5 reviews, cause I don't feel like writing if nobody is reading… you get me? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

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Sheepish was an understatement for Arielle's behaviour in the coming weeks. Whilst she had not per-se apologised to anyone, her behaviour was notably different in personality and attitude. For one, she smiled at her father, who gleefully returned it each time. The pair had not spoken yet, but Arielle's previously thunderous attitude had turned into a meek and quiet (possibly guilty) acceptance. She had trained with him one day, and Jon had even walked in on the pair small-talking in their cabin. He had smiled when he had witnessed this. Arielle and Jon spoke as normal, yet once again her guilt had gotten in the way of her words a few times, and had seemed to glue her mouth shut. She was not avoiding him however, and in fact spent more time closer to his side than ever, not that he was complaining. One surprise for everyone was Arielle's- or Eli's- newly forged friendship with Samwell Tarly. The pair had bonded after her apology, and Arielle seemed to nurture the confidence in him. She would often train with him in an evening with the help of Jon, and the trio would end up laughing or arguing over some petty competition. For Arielle, life was good. Things were progressing slowly, but life was indeed good.

Before any of them even knew it, Benjen had travelled beyond the wall again and it was time for them to take their vows and get allocated to their positions. Whilst Arielle knew that she would never be a ranger, and did not in fact want to be a ranger, she held out some small sliver of hope for something other than steward; Builder maybe? The stewards got the ball end of things sometimes, and Arielle had experienced enough hardship in the previous months for anyone. Her mind, however, was plagued with thoughts of her brother still. If her father was here, on the wall, then where was her brother? She had not plucked up the confidence to talk with him about it… She hadn't even delved into the apologies or explanations yet. She wasn't sure if she was ready. In the meantime, the pair had built up a steady friendship of shy smiles and wistful glances full of meaning. Her father seemed to be a good man. He was always fair, she noted, and even the weakest of the brothers went to him for help. He worked in the forges as a smith of course, bringing back happy memories of her clumsiness, although her shoulder still itched every time she laid her eyes upon flaming coals. She made an effort to stay away. Arielle felt safer when her father was there, as though she had her own little line of defence. It made her happy to see Jon and her father get along too. She wasn't sure if she could say she loved her father yet, but one thing was certain: if the pair continued to grow closer she could see herself being his daughter- or son- again.

The nights seemed to grow longer, as the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky. Instead of beautiful hues of dusty pink and orange flame like those seen in Winterfell, an inky blackness consumed the sky at dusk each night, and the lack of colour was draining on Arielle's eyes. She wasn't sure she could even remember what bright orange or summery green leaves looked like anymore. Even Winterfell, where colour was sparse, the hues of the leaves in the Godswood and were richer somehow, filled with life. She could remember the bright red of the leaves of the Weir wood. Here? Everything was grey and white. Sometimes she would stare into Ghost's eyes just to see a colour other than the norm. The bright red held a vibrant fire that cheered her up. The lack of life in the north of Westeros left her drained.

The tension in the Castle was growing too. Since the rangers had left on their mission, there had been a growing number of people itching to be anywhere but the wall. One deserter had even been caught. Jon had been lucky enough to be posted on the wall for guard duty with Samwell Tarly of all people. He had watched the sun rise and seen what there was beyond. Arielle had not had the privilege. Most people in Castle Black thought her crazy for wanting to go beyond the wall but to Arielle the curiosity was natural, and she could not understand the fear that people held. Perhaps this was naïve of her, and perhaps the reverence for the north that the other men held was logical, and _she_ was the abnormal one.

The day before the induction into the Night's watch for eternity, she noted her father ambling through the courtyard. What better time than now to talk to him? She lightly jogged after him, her hair tickling her chin as she went. "Sixsmith!" She called out, causing him to look over his shoulder at her approaching figure. "A word?" She asked, and he nodded, a slight grin stretching across his face.

"We'll go to the cabin." He smiled lightly, and guided her with a strong hand on her shoulder. The weight didn't feel intrusive or invasive, it felt nice and comforting, like it was something she had been missing. She nearly leaned into her father's touch until she realised she was meant to be playing the role of Eli Broderick, who was nothing more to Iain Sixsmith than a mere friend or acquaintance. Arielle grimaced but maintained her composure as the pair neared the cabin and entered, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind them. It was the two left alone in the cabin then, and Arielle's nerves had left her mind blank. She smiled at her father, and his gappy grin met hers which left her slightly reassured.

"Elle… I've missed you." His tone was nervous and eyes pleading; she could see the truth in what he said.

"I…" Arielle scoffed breathily. Her nerves had made it hard for her to speak. "I think we… Um… I think we need to go over some things. I… What happened?" Tears had started to well in Arielle's eyes. This conversation would be harder than she thought. Her father chuckled bitterly, moving to sit on his bunk. Arielle simple maneuvered her way over to her own and tentatively sat, eyes fixated on the haggard man in front of her.

"It was the worst night of my life Elle. Not long after I had left you, I was gathering wood, and a group of raiders pounced on me. I… I was almost dead by the time they had finished. They took everything I had on me, all our money… nearly my life. I was going to die if not for the slavers that had come by and one of them recognised I was a smith so they took me. I tried telling them about you, that you were close, but my injuries were too severe so I'm not even sure they understood. They weren't sure I was going to make it at that point. They were heading to castle black, and on the way there, one of the men, Mormont's son, nursed me back to health. He's been exiled for his crimes now, but me? I made it here. It took a long time for me to heal Elle, but once you're here you know you can't leave. That's just the way it is. Please believe me Elle, there isn't a day gone by that I haven't thought of you…." Her father trailed off into silence, tears welling in his own eyes. His voice had gone thick and gravelly with the emotion in his voice, and his shoulders hunched with the weight of his past. In this moment, the proud and burly man that she had seen outside was gone and in his place sat a tired old man with no family.

Arielle didn't realise she had been crying until a teardrop had landed on her hand. She was smiling too, the weight of her father's absence slowly lifting. He _hadn't_ meant to leave her. He never abandoned her, he couldn't help it. A sudden crashing wave of guilt flooded through her system and she ran to her father, burying her face in his shoulder in a crushing hug. Iain hauled her onto his lap as she wept like the little girl he knew her as. He cradled her in a way that made her feel safe and happy. The pair stayed like this for an hour at the least until the sun (or what they could see of it) had started to dip in the sky. Arielle peeled herself from her father's embrace and wiped her eyes.

"Does it look like I've been crying? Jon told me I'm a hideous crier." She giggled slightly. Iain beheld his daughter, and noted the puffy red eyes and tear tracks down her cheeks. Jon was right, she looked a pasty mess. He nodded grimly and chuckled.

"Y'always were an ugly crier. Have been since you were a babe." She reached out and swatted her father's shoulder who then feigned agony. She giggled, then caught herself with how feminine her laugh sounded at that point. When she left this cabin she had to be Eli Broderick, not bloody Giggly Sixsmith. She steeled her shoulders and adopted a comically gruff voice.

"C'mon you old coot. Food time." Iain chuckled behind her and followed her out of the cabin, shaking his head.

"Don't get cocky you little Gobshite." He responded, prompting his daughter to look back and childishly stick her tongue out to him, and storm off towards the dining hall. Iain hung back, smiling to himself. He had his daughter back.

When Arielle wandered into the dining hall, she was met by the smell of cooking meat and licked her lips. Her eyes scanned above the crowds until she found Jon, who was sitting with Samwell Tarly. His mouth turned up at the corners when he saw her walk in with a grin on her face. It was the first one he had seen on her in a long time. Her smile had always been beautiful. Jon caught himself before he could think like that about his best friend again. It wasn't right to think of her like that, especially when her bloody father was around. He dropped his eyes to his rabbit leg again and tore at the flesh with his teeth. It was a rarity that hunts ever went well enough to have just meat on their own, so he would savour every moment of it. Of course, if he could go on a hunt, then he would have caught more, but as simply a recruit he wasn't allowed. He was distracted when a thud beside him on the bench signalled the arrival of Arielle.

"Alright Lads." She greeted, pulling a leg towards her and digging in with such ferocity that it surprised him. It would seem that Sam thought the same.

"You know Eli, If I ate like you, I'd be the size of a house. How in seven hells can you eat as much as you and still be so bloody skinny?" Arielle smirked at Sam and shrugged, a grin across her face. Chunks of meat stuck out from the sides of her mouth leaving her looking like a savage. It was when a droplet of grease dropped from the side of her lips and she wiped it using her sleeve that Jon had realised how much she had changed. She had truly become a lot freer since joining the Night's Watch, but she looked happy. She would have been happier in Winterfell obviously, but she actually looked happy here. Jon considered that a personal success on his part and grinned internally to himself.

"It's cause he's still a boy Sam, he's tiny, barely changed since his twelfth name day. Still not even got a beard." Jon jested, causing Arielle to play along and jab him in the ribs with her elbow, making the table chuckle. She smiled at Jon slightly, who felt his head grow light at the gesture. She truly was pretty, he thought. He tightly returned the smile, and was thankful for the excuse to look away when her father entered the room looking grim. "Iain?" He questioned.

"You'd think after only being back a bloody week or two that I'd get a few more off before going beyond the wall again. No, I've got to go and catch up with Bloody Benjen." Jon noted Arielle stiffen beside him. He put his meat down on the table and discreetly placed his hand on her leg, squeezing once gently in a reassuring manner. Her hand slid on top of his but her eyes locked onto her fathers. Jon had seen the pair walk off together and knew that they were probably closer now.

"But you can't!" Arielle explained indignantly, her grip on Jon's hand becoming slightly painful. Jon saw her getting emotional and gripped her hand tightly as a warning. She slowly relaxed and her shoulders became less tense. Jon slid his hand back over to his own food and continued eating, so as not to raise suspicion. Iain grimaced at his daughter and started to eat his own food.

"I've got to lad. Commander Mormont's orders." He grimaced once more and continued to eat.

"When do you ride Sixsmith?" Jon asked, he knew that Mormont was a dick but he didn't think it would be too soon. It was usually a few days after the order that riders went out.

"Tonight lad." The whole group sat in silent shock, Arielle possibly more than most. Jon would be there for Arielle tonight. She would be worried sick. The Gods, or Mormont, were cruel bastards.


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: So because of all the lovely reviews, I've decided to torture you all a little bit… you'll thank me later…. Enjoy ;) Also, I'm really sorry for the stroppy attitude in the last A/N, it was a difficult time for me and I'm super sorry 3**

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Arielle trudged back to the cabin in silence, shortly followed by Jon and her father. Her expressionless face left the other two men worried, but Iain could not focus on his daughter right now as much as he wished he could. He had a job at hand. The cabin seemed colder now as Arielle entered, greeting ghost with a pat on the head as he padded to meet her. She heard the door shut behind her and turned to face the two men. "Father…." She sighed, and he moved to hug her closely. She felt warm again when she was bundled into the arms of the older man, burying her head in his shoulder and throwing her arms around his neck. "It would be fruitless and selfish of me to say 'don't go' wouldn't it?" She asked hesitantly, her voice coming out meek and childlike once more. Iain nodded grimly and withdrew from his daughter, bundling his things together into a saddle bag. It was needless to say that he was nervous, especially with having to ride at night, but it was nothing he had not done before.

"Don't worry my girl. I'm not a ranger for no reason. You've lost me once and I won't let you lose me again." Arielle felt comforted by her father's words. Jon seated himself next to Arielle on the bed with a sigh, wrapping his arm around her shoulder silently. She looked up at Jon with a thankful smile and placed her head on his shoulder, her shaggy locks falling across her eyes. She reached up to brush it away but was surprised when Jon did it for her, almost without even looking. The pair didn't know, but Iain was hyper aware of what was occurring between the two young adults. He was quick to notice Jon Snow's affection for his daughter, but until a few days ago hadn't been quite sure whether it was in a sibling dynamic or something more. Now however, he was convinced it was more.

He wasn't quite sure about how Arielle felt, and he guessed that neither was she. Iain saw how she hero-worshipped Jon without even knowing it. She even tried to copy his fighting style in the training yard. She smiled when he was around, and there was no shortage of playful banter and seemingly light touches between the pair, initiated by both parties. Maybe she just wasn't sure of how Jon felt? This however left Iain with a predicament. He did not want to leave and let Jon Snow break his daughter's heart whilst he was gone and be left to deal with his daughter's heartbreak when he returned- if he returned. It wasn't that he didn't want to per se, but he didn't know his daughter, and whilst he loved her and needed to protect her, she was a woman. He didn't know how he should handle this kind of thing; hell he hadn't even seen a woman for 5 years! The thought of Jon and his daughter together made him irrationally angry but he had to trust that Jon was a man of his word. It had to be said that Jon was an honourable man, and being a man of the Night's Watch meant abstinence from women. Iain was almost certain Jon would keep that vow.

Iain turned around, satchel in hand and grimaced at the pair, cueing Jon to stand up. "I'll walk you to the stables Iain." Iain shook his head and smiled holding up a hand.

"No Jon. You keep this one company. You know how women folk get when they're upset." He grinned with a wink before pressing a kiss to his daughter's forehead gently, knowing it may well have been his last chance to do so. He strolled out of the cabin to the sound of his own laughter and Arielle's indignant objections only letting his shoulders drop with the weight of his task once he was no longer in sight. He knew that could be the last time he would see his daughter, but he would certainly fight to come back to her. The door swung shut behind the imposing figure of the former smith and suddenly Jon and Arielle were very much alone. Jon sat on the bed again beside Arielle, his arm resting on her shoulders again. Once again the small girl sunk into his side looking forlorn.

"Hey now, don't get upset. It's like your father said, he's not a ranger for no reason." Jon sighed and rubbed up and down the side of Arielle's arm comfortingly. She appeared to nod then huffed indignantly.

"I know that, but… I just got him back Jon, and now I feel like he's going away all over again and he's never going to come back…" Arielle flopped back analysing the wooden grooves of the ceiling, staring at the knots in the wood and obvious cobwebs in the corners. It was amazing to her how life could even exist this far north, as far as she knew life struggled to exist round Winterfell. She was broken from her musings by Jon's voice.

"I know Elle, but that's sort of your own fault isn't it? You took so long dwelling in your own head that you didn't try and make things better." Jon winced as soon as he said the words, knowing Arielle would clash with him instantly. Instead, he was surprised when he was met with a deep sigh and the words "I know." Thrown back at him.

"You do?" Jon asked astounded, his voice coming out slightly strangled with his shock.

"Well, yes." Continued Arielle, "I know I wasted my time being angry… I just regret it is all. I should have listened to you and stuck with you. I've been feeling really guilty about that but I dunno. I never apologised or thanked you really." Arielle rolled onto her side facing away from Jon, grimacing with the realisation that she had acted like an utter prick. She needed to take responsibility for her actions but she hadn't and blamed everyone else.

Jon shook his head. "It's over now Elle. You're going to be okay. Your father is going to be okay. We're okay. Heck, we're better than okay. I'm just happy you're talking to me again." Arielle smiled at Jon's northern lilt in his voice, not that she didn't have the same one but it just sounded so much more fitting on him. She rolled over to face Jon, who was still seated on the bed like a normal person instead of cocooned like a child, like she was.

"Really? You forgive me for… everything?" Arielle brought herself upright and stared into Jon's eyes pleadingly. He simply chuckled at her in response and brought her into an embrace, his hand wrapping round her shoulder again tugging her into his side.

"Well, maybe not everything." He rested his chin atop her head, his long shaggy locks tickling her forehead. "I still haven't forgiven you for that time when we were 12 and you tripped me over in front of Robb." He grinned cheekily and was quite unsurprised when Arielle pulled away from him and clipped him round the back of the head. He loathed to admit it but because she had gotten stronger it quite hurt him, but he still couldn't help but chuckle. "I joke! I joke!" He cried, flinching away from the girl, who had started to giggle.

"That was because you'd stepped on the back of my dress and made it muddy! It was the one Lady Cat had gotten me!" Arielle retaliated indignantly. Jon couldn't help but to stare at her face in wonder. Her complexion had paled and her skin become harder but he still found her as beautiful as the day that he first met her. Her smile suited her face, he noted, as he analysed the way her eyes crinkled and her cheeks lifted as she laughed. A small smile spread across his face as he noted how well she seemed to be doing despite the hardships she was facing. Pretending to be a man was taking its toll on her obviously, and everything with her father was weighing on her frame, but she was… okay, Jon realised. Arielle, the beautiful girl in front of him was okay. That was because of him. He had ensured she was okay. He hadn't failed in that after all. Arielle's laughter had died down and she was staring at him curiously, the silence creating a blush on her features that Jon noted made her even more beautiful.

"Jon?" Arielle spoke softly. She was nervous about the small smile on Jon's face. His eyes looked so sincere and deep, and she had never seen that expression on his face before. That wasn't to say it was a bad one at all, just… different. It was the one that he wore when he told her of his wish to become a Stark. It was one of… longing. The realisation struck her sharply but not perhaps in a negative way. Her stomach seemed to twist in knots as a small smile crept across her own face. Her cheeks felt hot and burned under the weight of his stare. He began to lean forwards, his eyes flickering down to her lips, and suddenly Arielle's head felt light… Was he…? He was going to kiss her. Her own eyes began to close as Jon's did.

When the pair were no more than a few inches apart a sudden knock pounded on the door, breaking the moment and causing the two to leap apart, Jon coughing uncomfortably and launching off the bed to the door. Arielle's eyes were wide open with the realisation of what had almost happened. She brought her fingertips to her lips and traced them gently, letting them drop into her lap once again with the echoes of what almost was. What did this mean for them? At the door she could hear Samwell Tarly's voice, which grew louder as he and Jon walked further into their room. She barely heard Sam's invite to the great hall where the men were drinking and celebrating their initiation tomorrow, yet somehow she managed to accept, telling him she'd follow behind him. She could not look Jon in the eyes as he walked out with Sam. Because of this however, she did not notice how his eyes lingered on her face, and how he turned back to look at her before shutting the door quietly behind him, sighing with regret.

Arielle stood and shook herself, bringing herself out of her head. She was struggling to comprehend what had just happened in her head. She ran a hand through her shaggy locks. There was no way Jon was going to kiss her right? She was just imagining things. She replayed the situation in her head over and over but there was no possible way that it could have been anything else. The thought made her want to both giggle and exhale with glee and exaltation but also cry and scream with frustration. What did this mean for her?

Trying to put this behind her she made her way across the frost bitten courtyard into the more welcoming great hall and was met by the sounds of cheering a loud singing- if you could call it that. It was more like speaking in rhythm. Around the room, the men were steaming drunk- more so than usual. It wasn't unusual to find at least a few drunks each night, but tonight there were simply no exceptions to this rule. Even commander Mormont sat at the top table with a drink in his hand and pink cheeks. It was nice to see, she noted, that everyone was getting along. It made her smile at the ridiculous sight of all the men, even more when a large goblet of wine was thrust into her hand by a passing steward, who she thanked loudly with a laugh.

As her eyes scanned the room, they met a certain pair of warm brown ones that had been fixed on her figure ever since she had walked into the hall. She was fixed on those eyes. Jon was standing there next to Sam with a small grin on his face and a goblet of wine in his hand. She realised the grin was directed at her, so she did the only thing she could think of in that moment. She smiled back at him, the left hand corner of her mouth only tilting upwards. Arielle raised her cup towards him, and took a long, hard, very much needed drink of her wine. It was going to be a long night.


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hey you lot, long time no write, long story short, became a stoner, had a mental breakdown, wrote this, enjoy.**

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She smiled at Jon from across the room and raised her goblet, her eyes never leaving his over the brim of the cup. Jon had never seen such a look from her, it was hardly the innocent Arielle that he knew. If he didn't know that she wasn't giving him the look on purpose, he would have said the look belonged on one of the whores back in Molestown. She truly didn't know what she was doing. Arielle had been singing and laughing with Pyp and Grenn, cheering along to the chanting and jeers of the men. Her smile had Jon transfixed and he could not help but think back to the cabin and what might have occurred should Sam have left the pair alone. He could safely say for sure the pair were no longer 'friends' but somewhere in the middle whether they cared to admit it or not.

Arielle's attention however was flitting around the room. Whilst she was not necessarily a small person, she was lithe by nature, so the alcohol she had been drinking was reaching her head at an alarming rate. She had assumed with her newly developed muscles that her tolerance might have increased, but seven hells was she wrong. She felt like her world was spinning and she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. There was a slow burning sensation between her legs and she knew it was because of the wine she had been drinking. Pyp had thrust goblet after goblet into her hand, the lads taking the piss out of her and how much she could drink. She at first had been determined to prove them wrong but alas her goal seemed to be going out of the window.

The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the floor, giggling, with Pyp sitting bemused by her side. "Hey…. Pyyyypar. Shhhh…. Did you know? Do you know? No!" She gasped, sitting upright, covering her mouth with her hands in mock shock, a grin on her face. "You don't know!" Arielle cried bursting into yet another fit of giggles. Pypar had ignored her babbling until now.

"What?! Oooooh Eliiii tell me!" his head lolled upon her shoulder as the effects of the alcohol he had been drinking started seeping in. Arielle brought her finger to her lips in a shushing motion and Pyp nodded gravely, as though it was the most important secret in the world. Arielle wagged her finger, indicating for him to draw closer, which he did, cupping his hand around his ear. Arielle cupped a hand around her lips, drawing close to his ear.

"I- I'm a…" she hiccupped sharply, "I'm in love with someone!" She drew away sharply and giggled as Pyp did the same, gasping, chanting loudly "Eli's in love!" repeatedly, much to her disdain. The chant slowly grew until it was audible all throughout the hall. Arielle had leapt up at that moment, giggling and trying to shush those around her, when suddenly she had become the centre of attention and the rest of the room was silent, apart from the jeers of encouragement to tell everyone. She had been lifted by Grenn and thrust onto the top of a table for everyone to see. The heat in her cheeks grew tenfold as she noticed Jon's eyes boring into her from the back of the crowd. She couldn't look away.

"Go on Eli! Tell us about her!"

"Eli Tell us! We're horny, let us imagine your mystery girl!"

"Does she have big tits?!"

"Have you fucked her in the ass yet?!" one particularly perverse man cried, at which Arielle grimaced. She was beginning to sway on the spot, but her eyes were still locked with Jon's. She felt stable and locked in place from his gaze alone.

Without intending to, she called out over the din of the men.

"Black hair, like a raven. Brown eyes, soft, like… like the gemstone veins running through cave walls but… but dangerous, like a tiger or wolf… they have fire and... a Kind face… kind eyes… and the body…." She trailed off with a laugh tinted with desire. Jon's heated gaze made her quiver. She felt a wetness between her legs that she had never felt before, but couldn't decide if it was the alcohol or the passion in his eyes making her feel this way. She needed to lie down in the snow outside if she was to cool down before staying in the same room as john, otherwise she may not be held responsible for her actions.

Jon swallowed, knowing she was describing him. Her gaze, so innocent yet so sensual, was transfixed upon him, as though it were only the two of them. He felt his cock beginning to grow stiff in his pants and was relieved for the long cloak he had chosen not to take off. She had no idea of the effect she was having. Even with the scars on the side of her face from her meeting with the Lannisters, she was absolutely stunning facially. Eyes travelling lower to her chest, he couldn't help but remember when he had seen the contours of her breasts through the shirt she was wearing back in Winterfell. What he wouldn't give to have her beneath him right now. Whilst he was still a virgin, he was certainly not naïve. He could picture her body writhing beneath him, her newfound muscles clenching in pleasure as he buried himself between- no. He couldn't think like that. It was the alcohol talking and this was Arielle. She deserved more respect than that… but good gods she was fucking beautiful scars and all. He could almost feel her smooth thighs beneath his finger tips and longed to know what she tasted like. He and Rob had discussed sex on numerous occasions as brothers do, and he knew what to do, but experience was something else.

Little did he know Arielle's own thoughts were following a different pattern. She was growing wetter and wetter, the pressure between her legs causing her to shuffle and sway. She couldn't help but think of her hands trailing down his defined chest, gripping his shoulder blades as he entered her with his fingers and his cock... She wanted him and she wanted him badly. She could practically feel her scar on her shoulder tingling as imaginary fingers traced the mottled skin. The pair were broken from their trance with the jeers about this imaginary woman's cunt and how slick it must have been. 'Little did they know' Arielle thought bitterly.

A sudden lurch in her stomach alerted her to the fact that something was wrong. She attempted to pass it off as simple nerves and feeling flustered until it happened again. Everyone had figured out that she was going to vomit as she clapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the door. She left to the sounds of jeers and laughter and proceeded to throw herself on all fours and empty her stomach onto the frost bitten mud outside, the greenish brown of her vomit mixing with the pure white snow and tainting it. Her stomach clenched and lurched as another wave of vomit crawled its way up her throat and hurled itself onto the floor. Throat burning with the pain of stomach acid coating her oesophagus, she swiped the back of her bare hand across her mouth, gloves discarded in the warmth of inside having forgotten to collect them before her humiliation. Unfortunately, she had learned in the most humiliating of ways that she could not handle her booze.

She had thought her humiliation could be endured alone but she was mistaken. Arielle jumped in shock as a hand rested lightly on her hunched over shoulders. Her eyes flew up to meet her comforter, only to soften as she saw who it was.

"Are you okay Eli? You looked positively green when you ran out!" Sam chuckled slightly, in the nervous and hesitant way that he did. His hand was extended towards her in a sign of kinship and worry. Arielle smiled, an odd mixture of grateful and grim. She flicked the vomit on her hand onto the floor and clasped Samwell's outstretched one, hauling herself up off the floor.

"N-not really Sam…" She mumbled, spitting out the taste of bile onto the floor, "Think'm gon' go bed." She sighed, still swaying on her feet. Sam smiled with pity and shook his head.

"Don't blame you, we've all been there. I- I mean some more than others but… Yeah. D- d'you need a cloak or gloves or somethin'? It's awfully cold." Arielle smiled at the mousy man gratefully again. He truly was a kind person with a heart bigger than his belly.

"Nah… it's alright Sam, you get back in there with Jon. He needs company to survive all those wankers." She grinned, but her heart leapt in her chest as she spoke his name betraying her head. "It's just the alcohol!" she thought to herself, but some little voice inside of her told her that she was kidding herself.

"You kidding? You should have seen how quickly Jon leapt to try and help you! Bloody Grenn and Pyp grabbed him and made him drink with them before he could follow me. He was really worried." Sam didn't know the effect his words had on her conscious mind, drunk or no. It warmed her heart to know that Jon was worried but caused her to have an inexplicable anger. When was he going to learn that she could take care of herself and was not about to let a little bit of booze defeat her? She had faced the Lannisters for crying out loud! She could face her own flipping actions.

"Tell Jon I'm fine, if he's worried he can come check on me. Thanks Sam." Forgetting herself, she wrapped her arms around the gentle giant, surprised when he returned the sentiment but also by her change in demeanor. Young Eli Broderick had changed from drunken stupor to frosty in the space of an instant. Was it something he had said? Sam smiled gently as she pulled back from the hug, wrapping her arms round herself and wandering across the courtyard. Sam watched his troubled friend until he saw Eli close the door to his and Jon's bunk. Sam knew Eli was young, but never realised how young he must have been until now. Could have been no older than Oli really. 15 or 16 at most? Poor lad. He shook his head as he moved back into the hall where the party was commencing.

Arielle meanwhile, had sighed deeply and rinsed her mouth out with fresh icy water, smiling grimly when the taste of sick was absent. She had just been beginning to remove her undershirt and bindings when the door to the bunk crashed open, causing her to jump in shock and turn with a start to face the intruder. She should have known it would have been her favourite trouble maker. He crossed the room quickly and gripped either side of her arms, holding her at arm's length and scanning her for injury.

"Arielle? I would have been out sooner but your friends… tackled me, are you…?"

"I'm fine! Seven Hells I'm not some fragile little princess! I can handle myself!" she shouted into his face, shrugging out of his grip. Startled, Jon flinched back in shock, brows raising in alarm. "Sorry. Sorry…. I'm just a bit… fragile I guess." She spoke with a grimace. Jon smirked and nodded knowingly, wandering over to his bed and sitting opposite Arielle.

"I've seen my brother and Theon in that state many a time. I'm no stranger to it myself." He chuckled, reminiscing about his past in Winterfell. Arielle found it hard to ignore the bitter look crossing Jon's face as it usually did when Theon was referenced. She always had pitied how much Jon longed to be a part of the family, and was treated as lower than the Greyjoy swine or even herself. She couldn't help but shudder slightly to herself thinking of that night in Winterfell when Theon had-no. She couldn't think about that right now. She was out of that situation. Smiling sadly at Jon, she crossed the room and sat beside Jon on the bed, resting a head on his shoulder, ignoring the heat that stirred in the pit of her stomach as his hair tickled her forehead.

It had gotten to a point where she could no longer deny her attraction to Jon, but what had baffled her is why it had not occurred sooner. Or had it? She thought back to her time in Winterfell, all the times she'd been close with Jon, been with him just the two of them. It wasn't like she had never noticed how attractive he was, more that she had simply pushed it to the side and left them be like was expected of her. He was the son of a Lord and she was simply a serving girl, more was expected of him than to be with someone like her. She had left her feelings to the side. Now however, she was free of that constraint, but the question on her mind was if she was able to pursue these feelings, being Eli rather than Arielle in this certain situation.

Her mind dwelled on the weight of her feelings whilst Jon's arm shifted and wrapped itself around her, not helping her thought processes in the slightest. She couldn't pursue her feelings whilst she was Eli, there would be far too much that would interfere! Or would it be a relationship hidden and kept mostly to themselves? Arielle wished she hadn't noticed Jon's thumb rubbing gentle patterns soothingly into her arm. She wished her mind was unaware of the way Jon's arm was holding her firmly into his ribs where she seemed to fit perfectly. Her bony shoulders appeared to be digging into him yet he either hadn't noticed or was ignoring it. Her mind continued to drift until a cloud of darkness overwhelmed her vision and mind's eye. She did not, therefore, feel Jon shifting the pair so they were lying parallel in a spooning position. She didn't feel him smiling into her hair and inhaling deeply. She didn't feel the shuffle of his hips as he pushed them closer against her.

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"Is there anyone who wishes to take their vows before the old Gods?" Ser Alliser shouted to the men gathered below him. Arielle hated that man with a fucking passion, even more so with her hangover pounding her temples but he was the master-at-arms, so she had to respect him. There was a weirwood beyond the wall that the men were able to go to should they wish to take their vows there. Naturally, Jon was one of the only ones to stand up. It should have come as no surprise to Arielle as the Starks were some of the only families who still followed the old Gods, but also because Jon had a penchant for drawing attention to himself. She obviously wasn't going to let him go beyond the wall alone so she stood alongside him earning herself a smile. What surprised her was the rising of Sam on Jon's opposite side. She knew that the Tarley's didn't support the old Gods… it was common knowledge, so why was he volunteering to come with them?

The trio paraded out of the crowd met with questioning, pity-filled and mocking looks from their peers. It felt good to be back at Jon's side despite this. The events of last night had not yet left her mind however, neither had the conclusion she had reached before sleep had captivated her. She definitely fancied Jon Snow.


End file.
